


Stardust To Remember You By

by kanoitrace



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Character Death, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2015, F/F, F/M, Fictional Religion & Theology, Happy Ending, M/M, Minor Violence, Past Character Death, Space Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-02 01:52:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 43,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5229380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanoitrace/pseuds/kanoitrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean Winchester’s brother is kidnapped by the carta king, Crowley, his only hope is to enlist the help of the legendary space pirate, Castiel. Lucky for him, Castiel has a grudge of his own against Crowley, and agrees to help him under one condition: Not only do they save Sam, but they take down Crowley, as well. Dean has little choice but to agree. What follows is a journey across the solar system to enlist the help of old friends and dethrone the king. And if some people fall in love along the way? Well, that can only be a bonus, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The artist for this has had much going on these past couple months, which I completely understand. As such, art is still to come, and I will update once it become available. 
> 
> So now! Thank you so much to so many people! First of all, thanks to [Heather](http://habitatfordeanwinchester.tumblr.com) for the initial idea that spawned from some random comment about space bees and really just spiralled out of control from there. Also, huge thanks to her for betaing! Thank you also to all the wonderful people who were my support system through this when my confidence flagged and for being my sounding boards when I was super excited about this and needed to vent that or when I needed help with direction. Seriously never could have gotten this done without you guys.
> 
> Thank you also to my artist! The art may not be done yet, but your exuberance for this fic has meant the world and I knew from the get go you were the perfect artist for it! So excited to see what you have.
> 
> So! Enough of my acceptance speech! Onto the fic!
> 
> [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/kanoitrace/playlist/5Y6xTvGVEiTkVUiq1AItf2) (It's missing a couple of songs because Spotify doesn't have older TSwift, which I do on my phone, but the important ones are there!)

Dean had searched for weeks, had to call in more favors and do more things he wasn't proud of than he could count to find this place, and now that he's here? Well, if he's honest, the whole thing seems a bit disappointing. After all, who lives on the moon anymore? The damn thing circles a dead ass planet. The only people left on it are old curmudgeons too stubborn to give up the land their families claimed centuries ago. And, apparently, once infamous space pirates who like to cultivate moon bees.

The grounds in front of the house are covered in those weird bee boxes, the buzzing emanating from and around them almost vibrating Dean's bones, and every time one flies too near him, he flinches.

Grumbling a litany of complaints and curses ranging from “Fucking bees! Who wants to be surrounded by bees?” to “I don't understand why they still simulate seasons in the domes. Why does anyone want it this god damn cold when it doesn't have to be?”, he pulls his coat tighter around him and stomps toward the quaint house beyond the bee houses. He makes it about halfway there before he hears gravel crunching under boots to his left. Quickly, he pulls his blaster from the holster on his thigh and spins to aim at the source of the noise. He lowers it at the discovery that it's only one of the Lunar curmudgeons - an old man with long, gray hair and a full beard of the same.

Dean sighs out a nervous chuckle, shaking his head and holstering his blaster. “Dude, you about gave me a heart attack.”

The old man narrows his eyes speculatively at Dean. “What are you doing on Emanuel’s property?”

Dean almost asks “Who?” before realizing that must be the alias the man he's looking for is using. Jerking a thumb in the direction of the house, he says flippantly, “Just giving ol' Manny a visit. He's an old hunting buddy.”

“You're lying.”

Dean barely has the chance to utter an unintelligent, “Huh?” before the old man is drawing a blaster from behind his back and firing. Thankfully, Dean has good reflexes and rolls out of the way, the heat from the beam barely grazing his arm. The old man is faster than he looks though, and before Dean can get back on his feet, the guy has a hand tightly around Dean's neck.

This is it, Dean thinks, This is how I go - some random, freakish Moon man choking me out. Shit can't even be cool.

Just as Dean's vision starts to go black at the edges, a voice from behind him commands, “Stop!”

The man's grip lessens, but doesn't let go completely. It's enough for Dean to be able to breathe, though, and he gulps in greedy breaths of the stale air that's pumped through the dome.

“What is going on out here?” the voice demands, rough as the gravel under Dean’s feet.

“I found this man wandering around your property,” the man informs, completely calm, as though he isn't holding Dean's life in his hands.

Silence stretches out, and all Dean can hear is the whirring machinations of the bio-dome and his own heart beating in his ears.

Finally, the voice says, “Bring him in.”

Dean is manhandled into standing, arms held in one large hand behind his back and a blaster pressed uncomfortably into his spine. Whoever had given permission disappeared, leaving only a wide open door emitting warm, yellow light in his wake. With a shove, Dean is led towards the house.

The interior of the house seems cozy. The foyer is painted a sedate, creamy yellow and furnished with oak end tables and an oak coat rack -- the first signs that the otherwise simple house doesn't belong to just anyone. When Earth died out, so, too, did things like oak furniture. This stuff goes beyond collectible, and Dean immediately finds himself calculating in his head how much he could bring in with those three pieces alone. It would definitely be enough to keep his ship and crew happy for two years, at least.

He's led into the sitting room, which once again sports classic Earth furnishings. Seriously, the amount of money this place is draped in almost makes Dean sick to his stomach. If the rest of the house is decorated in the same fashion, Dean's pretty sure that it's the most treasure he's ever seen in one place in his life. He's pushed down into a plush couch, made from all classic Earth fabrics. It's yellow and plaid and hideous but worth a fortune.

The old man sits in a leather arm chair, reclining back. Dean tries not to twiddle his thumbs.

“What are you doing here?” someone asks from behind him. It's the same voice that saved Dean's life.

Dean cranes his neck and catches sight of him - Castiel, the most renowned pirate to ever sail the stars. And honestly? He falls a little flat. Years of looking up to the guy, wanting to be just like him, and here Castiel is in a blue sweater vest? Dean finds himself all mixed up, feeling some unsettling combination of hero worship and disappointment. Dean's eyes follow Castiel as he makes his way around the room and sits in a chair opposite Dean.

Castiel fits him with a cold and probing stare. “Well?”

Dean glances out of the corner of his eye at the old man.

Castiel seems to catch his meaning and says, “Don't worry about Cain, he's a friend.”

“Yeah, right,” Dean grumbles with an eye roll.

Cain fixes Dean with an appraising look, the barest of smug smiles visible on his lips. “Be glad Castiel jumped in when he did, boy, or you wouldn't be sitting here.”

Despite the confidence in Cain's voice and Dean's surety that the guy isn't lying making Dean feel a little like crapping his pants, he still throws a cocky smile at the old man. “Yeah, sure. I was just getting started.”

Castiel pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, sighing tiredly as he massages the spot. “What are you doing here. Please.”

Dean turns his attention back on Castiel, hands tightening into fists where they rest on his thighs, steeling himself for what he's about to say.

“I need your help.”

Castiel's hand slowly comes away from his face as he looks at Dean incredulously, eyebrows raised in surprise. “What?” he asks inelegantly.

“I need your help,” Dean repeats. “Crowley kidnapped my brother and is holding him hostage. I need your help to get him back.”

Castiel's face settles into a frown. “And this concerns me how?”

“You hate Crowley,” Dean replies.

“Everyone except Crowley hates Crowley.”

“Well, yeah, but you extra hate him.”

Castiel affixes Dean with a probing look. “What is your name?”

“Dean Winchester,” Dean responds, all seriousness and pirate bluster.

Castiel leans back in his seat, crossing one leg across the other and threading his fingers over his abdomen. “Well, Dean Winchester, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but I have no particular feelings about Crowley one way or the other. May I suggest you either find someone else for your little crusade or come up with whatever it is that Crowley wants in exchange for your brother. I assume he wants something, correct? You did say he was being held hostage.”

“Yeah, me!”

“Then you should probably turn yourself in. Your life for your brother's, it seems like a fair trade. Now if you would please leave my house. Cain will see you out.”

Castiel and Cain stand at the same time, though while Cain looms over Dean, Castiel makes his way back to the door he came through.

Panicking, and in a last ditch effort, Dean calls after him, “What the hell, man!”

Castiel stops but doesn't turn around.

“What happened to you!? You used to be the most feared guy in all of explored space! You took down fucking Lucifer! Now look at you! You wear sweater vests and raise moon bees!” Dean shouts, shoulders squared and tense with anger.

“Are you done?” Castiel asks without turning.

Dean doesn't respond, just glares at his once-upon-a-time idol's back.

Castiel turns to him and looks him up and down, appraising him, before meeting Dean's eyes. His voice is made of ice when he says, “I retired a long time ago. There is not a single being alive that does not know that, and how I spend my retirement or why I retired is certainly no one's business. I will ask you politely only one more time to please leave.”

Dean stares Castiel down, but when the guy doesn't back down, he deflates, shoulders slumping in defeat. Mournfully, he says, “I idolized you.”

“I am very sorry to disappoint you, then,” Castiel says before turning his back to Dean once more and slipping from the room.

Dean stares at the spot where Castiel stood not a minute before. When Cain claps a hand on Dean's shoulder, he startles out of his trance and glances up at the imposing man beside him.

Cain almost looks apologetic as he says, “Time to go kid.”

Dean lets Cain lead him out of the house and close the door behind him.

  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel doesn't even acknowledge that Dean said anything as he thoughtfully muses, “I think perhaps you're right. It's about time someone took the king off his throne.”

Dean stares up at his ship -- The Impala to most; Baby to him-- and feels a swell of pride in his chest, just as he does every time he looks at her. She's sleek black and silver, made to blend in perfectly with the darkness of open space, and there's not a single known ship in space that can keep up with her. His engineer, Ash, makes damn sure of that.

Swallowing down the bitter feeling he's had the whole way from the boonies where Castiel lives to the tiny spaceport, Dean boards his ship, prepared to face his crew. Sure enough, as soon as he boards, Jo, his navigator, and Charlie, his second-in-command, are flanking him.

"How'd it go?" Jo asks.

"Judging by the lack of dreamy, legendary pirate by your side, I'm guessing not well," Charlie pipes in. Dean's eye twitches.

"What'd you say, Dean? Please don't tell me you hit on him first thing," Jo chides, and yep, he's definitely developing the telltale eye twitch that rears up every time he's in the company of both of these women at once.

"Hey, maybe Dean didn't do anything. We knew it was a long shot. The guy's been retired for like ten years," Charlie says, and bless her. Dean knew he gave her the position as his second for a reason.

Barely a beat passes as Jo and Charlie look at each other and then both say, "Nah!"

That's right. Dean named Charlie his second due to her natural leadership abilities and charisma, definitely not because of her loyal personality.

"Remind me to hire a new crew," Dean grumbles.

Jo jostles his arm with her shoulder, "Come on now, you'd be lost without us, and you know it, Winchester."

Dean shoots her a weak glare. Even if he knows she's right, he refuses to admit that to her.

"Okay, but seriously, what did Captain Dreamy say?" Charlie asks.

Dean raises his eyebrow at her. "Sometimes I think you forget that you're a lesbian."

Charlie shrugs. "Hey, power is sexy on anybody." Dean can't disagree with that point, so he doesn't say anything else on the matter.

"Dean!" Jo shouts, pushing him hard enough that he stumbles into Charlie and they both almost go toppling down.

"What the hell, Harvelle!" Charlie shouts at the same time Dean yells, "Mutiny!"

When they both manage to right themselves, Jo is standing with her hands on her hips, her momma's same no-nonsense look on her face. Dean can't suppress the shudder that runs down his spine at the look.

He heaves a sigh. "He said no, okay?"

Jo raises her eyebrow. "'No'? That's it? That's all he said?"

Dean shrugs. "More or less. Said he was retired and he had no intention of coming out of retirement."

"You explained the part about dealing with Crowley, right?" Charlie asks from over his shoulder.

Yet again, all he can do is shrug. "Said he had no more dislike for Crowley than anyone else, and then he had some big brute see me out."

Jo's brows knit together in consternation, and even without looking, he knows that Charlie is wearing the exact same expression.

"Hey, I can't explain it anymore than you guys can," Dean says, playing at unconcerned by this turn of events, which is so far from what he is that it isn't even funny.

The communicator at Charlie's hip beeps, and as she steps away to answer it, Jo places a hand on his shoulder.

"We'll find someone else," she promises with a reassuring smile. "There are plenty of people who hate Crowley who would be glad to help us."

Dean returns the look with his own cocksure smile. "Of course we will! I'm not worried in the least. Who needs some washed up old legend anyway? He was raising moon bees, Jo!" He scoffs at the thought while Jo's jaw just drops.

"Seriously?" she asks, gaping.

Dean nods. "Would I lie about something as sad as that?"

Jo stares at him a moment longer before she doubles over in laughter, which gets Dean to laughing as well.

Charlie reappears at his side and, with a pout, says, "Did I miss out on a good joke?"

Dean wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her flush against his side, placing a big kiss to the side of her head. "I'll fill you in later."

Charlie looks up at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "You damn well better, Winchester." The two of them share the look a moment longer before Charlie straightens. "Anyway, that was the local port authority. They're asking if we would mind moving the ship. We're apparently taking up most of their room and they need it freed up."

Dean rolls his eyes. "Damn backwater colonies." Looping his other arm around Jo's shoulders, he says, "Well ladies, looks like we better get Baby ready to set sail."

 

* * *

 

Dean can talk all he wants about finding someone else to help them, but when he's lying awake in his bunk while the rest of the crew sleeps, he can't actually convince himself  that it's a viable option. Sure, there are other pirates out and about that don't care for Crowley's regime, but none of them are foolhardy enough to collaborate with Dean in an attempt to infiltrate the guy's main base of operations.

Dean stares up at the metal ceiling of his ship, biting the inside of his cheek as he listens to the mechanical purring of Baby's system while guilt eats him up inside. The only reason Sammy is involved in any of this is because of Dean. The kid had been on the straight and narrow, leading a civilian life, a lawful one at that, before Crowley kidnapped him in retaliation against Dean. Dean clenches his fists, nails biting into the flesh of his palms. Crowley will pay for this, even if Dean isn't quite sure how he'll manage it. He'd honestly put all his eggs in one basket with Castiel. He throws out a fist in frustration, hitting the wall. The dull sound of force on metal echos around his small captain’s quarters.

The sound no sooner ends than the blare of the ship's emergency sirens start wailing, red lights flashing all across the ship. Dean bolts upright, first thought being that he can't possibly have hit her that hard. The thud of feet down the halls of the ship carry in from the other side of the door, and Dean swings himself out of bed to glance outside his room.

“What the hell!?” he shouts to the first person who happens to pass him – Ash.

“Not a clue, man!” Ash calls, not stopping in his beeline for the cockpit. Dean follows on his heels.

When they enter the control room, Jo is already in her seat, the screen in front of her angrily flashing more messages than Dean can shake a stick at.

“Jo, what's happening!?” he shouts over the blaring, sliding into his captain's seat.

“We were clipped!” she shouts, eyes not leaving the screen.

“By what!?” Dean yells, even though he's sure he has a pretty good idea of by what.

“Looks like one of Crowley's ships!” she calls.

Dean slams a hand down on his armrest. “Damn it!”

“Requesting permission from the port authority to dock!”

“They won't let us in,” Charlie says from where she appears right behind Dean's shoulder. “We're too large to fit in there with them.”

“But we're damaged!” Dean barks.

“Permission denied! We've been asked to wait until they leave!” Jo calls.

“God damn it!” Dean shouts.

“They passed right by us,” Charlie states, steely gaze fixed on the view screens at the front of the room.

Dean narrows his eyes. “Yeah, what's w – Shit!” And then he knows. Crowley's men aren't after them.

Charlie nods. “They must have figured out what we were after.”

Dean stands and directs, “Make an emergency landing!”

Jo startles still and turns to look back at him in disbelief. “What!?”

“You heard me!”

“We could get arrested for that! Besides, that could exacerbate the damage to the hull!” Jo argues, still wide-eyed.

“She can take it! Jo, just land the damn ship!” Dean's patience is wearing thin, panic crawling up his throat.

Jo continues to stare at him in shock until Charlie barks out, “You heard your captain! Land the ship!” That has everyone scrambling to their proper places in preparation for an illegal, emergency landing.

 

* * *

 

Dean's stomach sinks into a pit when they finally make it to Castiel's property. He's barely aware of Charlie placing a comforting hand on his arm.

The whole place is razed to the ground. The bee boxes are decimated, and the buzzing that had earlier grated Dean's nerves is painfully absent. The only sound beyond the whirring of the bio-dome is the occasional crackling from the smoking husks of wood that surround them. The house is barely standing, charred black and hissing from where the bio-dome's sprinkler system had been triggered by the fire that took the place below.

He's barely aware of Jo beside him whispering, “How awful.”

“We're too late,” he chokes out.

One of the greatest pirates known to space, and he's gone because Dean was an idiot. Of course Crowley would have eyes on them!

“How could I have been so stupid!?” he admonishes angrily.

“It would seem you were stupid for the right reasons.”

Dean whirls around at the voice, shocked and relieved to see Castiel standing in front of him.

“Are you...?” Charlie can't even finish the quiet question, too awestruck.

Castiel barely pays her any mind as he once again gives Dean that up-and-down appraising look he'd given him not twenty-four hours earlier.

Dean shrinks under it, casting his eyes about so that he doesn't have to meet the probing blue of Castiel's. “I'm so sorry,” he mutters, cowed to humility by what his own recklessness wrought.

Castiel doesn't even acknowledge that Dean said anything as he thoughtfully muses, “I think perhaps you're right. It's about time someone took the king off his throne.”

Dean's head snaps up, and he openly stares at Castiel in shock. “So that means you'll help us?”

Castiel nods. “It means I'll help you. Now I assume you have a ship somewhere near by? This scenery is starting to get depressing.”

Dean steels his expression to all-business and nods. “Of course.”

 

* * *

 

“Lunch time,” a disinterested voice calls from beyond the cell, sliding a plate of rotting food through the slot in the door. The tin plate falls to the ground with a clatter, food scatting across the floor. Sam barely raises his head to glance at it. He's lost count of just how long he's been here, the days blending into more and more of the same. He listens to the guards footsteps retreat down the hall.

“If you aren't going to eat that, at least send it my way.”

Sam does look up at this, scrunching his nose up in disgust at the request. “I can't believe you can stomach this slop.”

The woman in the next cell over shrugs. “After so many years, you grown immune to the taste.”

She's been there, in the cell next to his, since Sam was brought in, skin so pale as to be nearly translucent and dark hair greasy and matted down to her head, which makes sense if she's honestly been here for years. Sam shudders; he can't imagine.

She gnaws thoughtfully on what must have once been a piece of fruit, staring Sam down. “Still convinced that brother of yours is coming to save you?” she asks. There's no judgment to the question, just simple curiosity.

“He'll come,” Sam states, drawing his knees closer to his chest. He has faith in Dean.

The woman smiles blithely at him, saying conversationally, “Must be nice to have someone who cares about you like that.”

Sam finds himself returning her stare, and it hits him that even after being here as long as he has and spending most days talking with this woman to avoid slowly going insane, he still doesn't know her name. He marvels as such to her.

The corners of her dry, cracked lips quirk up in a smirk that Sam isn't sure he could manage if he were in her position.

“Name's Ruby.”

  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a smile lighting up Castiel's eyes, and it has Dean's stomach inexplicably tying itself up into knots.

 

Sam and Ruby are sitting back-to-back against the wall between their cells, fingertips pressed against the force field so that they would be touching if not for the divider. They may not be able to feel each other, but it still offers some sort of comfort.

"We're actually pretty lucky, all things considered," Ruby muses.

Sam scoffs, shoulders hunching inward. "How do you figure?"

"I've been in a couple of cells where all they have is the force field, so that you don't know where the cell ends and outside begins. Some were even electrified, so when you did find the border, it was the hard way. Not that I'm a fan of Crowley or anything, but at least he gave us bars so we can see."

Sam gives the briefest of nods, head tilted back against the invisible wall, before he realizes that she probably can't see it. "I guess you have a point there," he says.

Ruby's laugh is like a sharp bark. "Of course I do. Awesome people always have good points."

Sam can't help smiling even as he says, "I never said it was a good point."

"You'll come around," Ruby responds, self-assured.

 

* * *

 

Dean, Castiel, Charlie, Jo, and Ash are gathered around what Charlie long ago dubbed "the war table." It's really just a round table shoved into an overly cramped room that they mostly use for playing cards. Today, though, it’s finally living up to its name.

"We'll need allies," Castiel says, looking each one of them in the eye.

"Isn't this just a rescue mission?" Jo asks dubiously.

The dark look Castiel shoots her would make any lesser woman cower in her boots. Jo Harvelle is no lesser woman, though, and she gives as good as she gets.

"If we are going after Crowley in any capacity, it's for the long haul. You really think he’ll just let you steal your brother back and leave it at that?" Castiel directs the question at Dean, looking at the captain as though he hopes at least one of them has some sense.

Dean tries not to sink down into his seat when he responds, "No." He'd kind of been hoping, though.

Castiel nods like this is a sufficient answer. He turns his attention back to Jo, who bristles under the look. "We make for Mars, then," he informs her.

"Excuse you! Who died and made you captain?" Jo huffs.

Castiel yet again turns his attention to Dean, simply staring patiently, hands clasped on the table in front of him, waiting for Dean to rein in his navigator.

Dean side-eyes Jo and gulps. As much as he respects Jo (and is sometimes a little afraid of her, especially when she gets in a mood like this), he needs Castiel's help, and if this is what it takes, so be it. "Jo, set course for Mars."

She whips her head around to look at him incredulously. "You can't be serious!"

Dean inhales, steadying himself, and assumes what Charlie gleefully calls his "captain voice." "Jo, you heard me!"

Jo slides down in her seat and mutters, "Yes, Captain. Of course, Captain." She's glaring at him the whole while, of course, and Dean knows there will be hell to pay for this later. Charlie and Ash apparently know it, too, if the snickering under their breath is anything to go by.

"Wonderful," Castiel announces, sliding gracefully up and out of his seat. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe I will take a look around this ship."

Dean sinks further down into his chair. "Yeah, sure, knock yourself out," he mumbles miserably.

Castiel nods and excuses himself.

As soon as the door slides shut behind him, Charlie and Ash both burst into uncontrollable laughter, while Jo just continues to glare spitefully at Dean.

Sinking ever further into his seat, until he's almost completely under the table, he grumbles, "I hate all of you."

 

* * *

 

Castiel barely glances back when Ash enters the engine room, instead continuing to study the turbines.

"Impressive, ain't she?" Ash calls over the drone of the engine.

Castiel nods. "She is a beautiful ship; however, does her size not negatively impact her speed?"

Ash laughs, and Castiel turns to look at him curiously.

"No way, dude," Ash says, shaking his head. "The Impala is the fastest ship in space. Nobody can keep up with her. I make damn sure of that."

Castiel glances back at the turbines and then turns to give his full attention to Ash. "She is very lucky to have such a dedicated engineer." He may not be smiling, but there's something fond shining in his eyes, all the same.

Ash grins back. "Not much luck about it, man. Dean wanted the best for his baby, and the best he got."

"I can see that," Castiel says.

"Besides," Ash says with a laugh, "Dean would kill me if I ever let anything happen to her, and I don't know about you, but I'd prefer to be living."

Castiel nods, his expression pulling down just a fraction enough to darken his whole countenance. "Yes, living does seem to be preferable."

* * *

 

Dean is settled sideways in his captain's seat, legs tossed carelessly over the arm and chin bowed to his chest as he snoozes. Not the most professional way to man a ship, but with Baby's course set and only a couple of hours travel ahead of them, it seems the most reasonable way to pass the time.

"Dean."

"Mother fucker!" Dean scrambles not to fall out of his chair, finally just rolling out onto his feet and hopping to attention. His face flushes in embarrassment when he notices Castiel standing and staring at him in concern. "Don't sneak up on a guy like that, Cas," he pants.

Castiel tilts his head to the side like a bemused puppy, and Dean feels a shiver go down his spine due to those too blue eyes staring into his soul.

"What?" Dean snaps, discomfited.

"You called me 'Cas.'"

"That a problem?" he asks casually. At least it would be casual, if Dean wasn't turning even redder.

Castiel shakes his head. "Not at all. It's just that there's only ever been one other person who gave me a nickname. Besides family, of course."

There's a smile lighting up Castiel's eyes, and it has Dean's stomach inexplicably tying itself up into knots.

Dean clears his throat. "Right, well, um, did you need something?"

Castiel shakes his head. "Not particularly."

"Oh."

Well this is awkward, Dean thinks as they both lapse into silence to simply stare at each other. Dean should really say something, crack a joke, make his leave, anything to break the tense atmosphere surrounding them. Except that he can't. Honestly, who could look away? Seriously, has Dean ever seen anything so blue as Castiel's eyes? The gases surrounding Neptune might come close.

A soft cough from the doorway yet again has Dean about jumping out of his skin.

"You are very jumpy," Castiel notes, unperturbed.

The tips of Dean's ears burn. "Shut up, Cas," he mumbles. He glances to the door where Charlie is smirking knowingly at him.

Charlie glances between the two men, clearly amused, which doesn't seem to phase Cas in the least but has Dean turning as red as the planet they're heading towards. She, thankfully, doesn't say anything incriminating, only asks, "So why Mars?"

"That's where my second is living," Castiel responds.

Dean raises an eyebrow in Cas's direction. "Mars? Seriously? Man, what is up with you and your crew?"

Castiel looks at him bewildered, "What do you mean?"

"Come on!" Dean exclaims. "You were on the freaking moon --"

"It was tranquil," Castiel says in defense.

Dean continues on as if Cas never said a word, "-- and your second is on Mars!"

Castiel frowns at him. "I fail to see what is wrong with Mars."

"Dean thinks it's a cesspool," Charlie supplies helpfully.

"Because it is!!" Dean shouts.

Castiel ignores the outburst and nods wisely. "Ah, yes, well, I assume that is why she chose to live there. She always did have a want to help people."

Charlie looks at him dubiously. "So she went into pirating?"

Castiel shrugs. "We were all there for very different reasons, and perhaps all a little too idealistic. I never questioned her presence any more than she questioned mine."

Charlie and Dean share a bewildered look - because why would she have had reason to question her captain's presence? Before either of them can ask, Jo's voice comes over the ship's comm system.

"Final approach to Mars. Estimated landing time T-minus thirty minutes. Everyone to your stations in preparation for docking."

Dean and Charlie share a smile before looking at Cas.

"That's our cue!" Dean announces excitedly.

"Enjoy the ride," Charlie says with a wink before sauntering off to her own seat.

Castiel furrows his brow at them. "I feel like I should find this concerning somehow."

With a guffaw, Dean says, "Baby's landings are legendary."

Castiel's frown deepens. "Definitely not feeling any better about this."

 

* * *

 

"Sister, the old man in bed six ain't takin' his medicine."

She turns to smile kindly at the girl, who can be no more than seventeen. This one is new, and it breaks her heart. So young and already seeing so much death and sickness.

"What is your name?" she asks the girl with a smile.

"Tenny," the girl answers meekly, perhaps expecting to be reprimanded for her inability to administer Mr. Antilles his medication.

Tenny flinches when she places a hand on the girl's frail shoulder. "I will take care of it, Tenny, don't worry. Why don't you help Ms. Mattias here by re-wrapping her leg."

Tenny nods, big, brown eyes staring up at her in disbelief. Has this girl known no kindness in her life?

"Thankee, Sister," Tenny says in wonderment.

She continues to smile at the girl as she removes her hand. "Please, Tenny, I am not one of the sisters."

Tenny's eyes open impossibly wider. "So sorry, muhm!"

"It's alright, Tenny. Please, just call me Hannah."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel's eyes lower, and something in Dean burns at losing the intensity of that gaze being on him. "It was a long time ago," Castiel dismisses.

The Romulus district is exactly as Dean had described it - a cesspool. People clog the streets, many barefoot and looking ready to fall down dead in the road at any moment, while the merchants stand tall at their booths, gouging the poor on products they need to live but can never hope to afford. In the center of it all, the church stands like a beacon in the middle of the town square, where the cloying scent of sickness and poverty hangs the thickest.

A nun in an honest-to-God habit greets them at the large double oak doors, and the sight alone of that many clothes has Dean sweating even more in the desert-like heat. When Castiel requests Hannah, the nun leads them into the front foyer and retreats into the inner sanctum to retrieve her. Even this close to the entrance, there are still signs that this place is now being used as a center to treat the diseased and dying - a stray gurney and a cart filled with medication bottles in varying states of fullness.

A shudder runs down Dean's back as he expresses his distaste with the place with a very articulate, "Uck!"

Castiel glances curiously at him. "You don't like churches?" he asks curiously.

Dean snorts. "More like I don't like the sick. Creeps me out, man."

Cas nods, eyes trailing back to where the nun disappeared. "That makes sense."

Silence falls between them, and Dean finds himself conspicuously watching Castiel out of the corner of his eye, mapping the angle of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the pout of his lips. Castiel is a legend, the Wrath of God he'd been called while deposing Lucifer, but the man next to Dean? Dean can see very little legend in him, only exhaustion and sadness, and he feels guilt pool toxic in his gut that he was the one to pull Castiel back into a life he'd obviously tried very hard to leave behind.

Cas catches his eyes but does little more than stare back. It leaves Dean in an odd sort of stasis, staring and unsure of what he should say, or if he should even say anything at all. He swallows thickly, an itch starting under his skin, urging him to do something. He inhales deeply, catching more of the spicy clean scene of Cas than of the decay around them. He opens his mouth in a silent, little gasp, to which Castiel tilts his head in question, eyes narrowing in speculation.

A door slams somewhere down the hall, the sound reverberating against the walls, snapping Dean violently out of his daze. Castiel's expression becomes impassive again as he turns to look expectantly towards the source of the noise. A woman is walking towards them, movements purposed, her loose clothes swaying with her gait, This, Dean thinks, must be Hannah.

As soon as she's close enough, she and Cas embrace, not a step missed between them. When they pull back, Dean can clearly see the smile on Hannah's face, bright and radiant and set to split her face. He can also see the one Cas is sporting, smaller, though no less happy. Something twists up in him, stealing his breath at the sight. Castiel looks happy. Dean isn't sure if he feels pleased about that or slighted in some way.

"You look well, Castiel," Hannah greets, eyes raking over him fondly, hands going up to cup his cheeks.

Castiel raises his left hand to cover Hannah's right, while his right hand goes to her cheek. "As do you, Hannah."

They stand in silence, drinking each other in, expressions soft and, dare Dean say it, loving. It leaves Dean standing awkwardly to the side, shifting his eyes around to look anywhere but at the moment unfolding before him. To his dying breath, Dean will claim that the only reason he coughs is because a cloud of dust got the better of him. Either way, it sufficiently breaks up the reunion happening in front of him, Hannah's gaze shifting from Castiel onto Dean as she takes on a confused countenance.

"Castiel, who is this?"

Castiel steps away and turns so that he may address both of them at once. "Hannah, this is Dean," he says, gesturing from one to the other. Gesturing back, he adds, "Dean, this is Hannah, my second."

"Yeah, kind of gathered that," Dean mumbles, trying to ignore the negative feelings that are for some reason swirling about in his head.

Meanwhile, Hannah blinks in surprise, clearly taken aback by the introduction. "Why would you call me that?"

Castiel looks beseechingly at Hannah. "I had hoped you would aide us."

"Aide you?"

"We're taking down Crowley," Dean supplies matter-of-factly.

Hannah looks between the two of them like they're crazy. "You can't be serious."

Taking Hannah's hands in his own, Castiel pleads, "Please, Hannah, I need your help."

She purses her lips, staring Cas down uncertainly until finally she slumps her shoulders, visibly deflating. "Tell me what you need me to do, Captain."

**

It doesn't take Hannah long to collect her things, few as they are, and then they’re leading her back to the port where the Impala is stationed. Once they arrive, Dean calls everyone to the war table.

"This thing is really starting to live up to it's name," Ash comments, giving Charlie a cheeky smile.

Charlie gives a casual shrug of her shoulders, "What can I say? I'm psychic."

"There were sisters at the church who claimed as much," Hannah states simply.

Ash, Jo, and Charlie finally turn their full attention on her, and Jo rolls her eyes. "Don't encourage her."

Charlie ignores their navigator, sauntering over and slipping into the chair beside Hannah. She extends her hand in greeting. "Well hello there, who are you?"

"I'm Hannah," she responds, smiling kindly and shaking Charlie's hand.

"And I'm Charlie, pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine, I'm sure," Hannah responds.

This time Dean rolls his eyes. "Don't encourage her, Hannah."

Charlie scowls petulantly at the lot of them. "You guys all suck!" Hannah, for her part, just seems quietly amused.

Cas slides his hand onto Hannah's shoulder, and with no humor in his voice says, "We should get you filled in." Dean doesn't miss the way Castiel squeezes her shoulder possessively.

Hannah's amusement melts away into all-business, and casting her gaze up to look at Castiel, she nods. "Of course."

**

The decision is made that they will stay ported on Mars long enough to get in some quality rest, refuel, and do routine maintenance, and then they will make way for Colony-AB17 to gather up the rest of Castiel's old crew. It's a solid plan, but not enough to get Dean out of the funk he's been in since meeting Hannah. His crew seems to like her well enough, though, so he knows it's just him.

The Impala is little more than a ghost ship when Dean, bone-tired, makes his way to the kitchen for something to eat. To his surprise, the lights are on and he can hear hushed voices carrying down the corridor. As he gets closer, he can make out Hannah's voice, though he can't quite understand the words, just snippets like "-are you?" and "-wonder how they-". Something childish in him makes him briefly contemplate eavesdropping, but the sick feeling that settles in his stomach at hearing Castiel's low rumble in response has him reconsidering.

He strides into the kitchen, making a point to not look at either Cas or Hannah where they sit at the small island, and decides he needs a drink more than he needs food. As much as he acts at not noticing them while he clatters around in the cupboard, he's vibrantly aware of Hannah's intimate whispering of, "I believe I shall go to bed now. Good night, Castiel." Slightly louder, but no less friendly, she adds, "Good night, Dean."

"Good night, Hannah," Castiel whispers fondly. Dean does little more than grunt.

The small kitchen falls silent for a beat as Dean pours himself a glass of whiskey.

Finally, with no intonation one way or the other, Castiel notes, "You're drinking."

"Yeah, what of it?" Dean tries not to snap, he really does, but his foul mood is far more overpowering than any good sense he might have.

"Just making an observation." Castiel's voice is still bland, as if he's simply commenting on the recent rise in the stock of Aero Space, Inc.

It's silent again, which leaves Dean stewing in the fact that he's being a jerk. Sighing, he asks, "You want some?"

"Sure."

Dean pours a second glass and then sits down across from Cas, in the seat recently vacated by Hannah. He places Cas's drink in front of him, and they enjoy their liquor in silence.

Dean is half-way through his glass when he finally asks the question that has been niggling away at him all day. "Why'd you leave her?"

Castiel blinks at him, honest bewilderment in the lines of his face. "I'm sorry?"

"Hannah," Dean clarifies. "Why'd you leave her?"

"I'm not sure I understand what you're asking."

Dean sets his glass down with a bit more force than necessary. Castiel doesn't bat an eye at it. "Oh, come on! The way you look at her? It's clear as day!"

Castiel's expression screws up shrewdly. "Are you insinuating I have romantic inclinations towards Hannah?"

Dean gives an over-exaggerated eye roll and huffs. "If that's how you want to phrase it, sure."

Castiel settles him with a very serious look, impressing upon him, "I have never had any such feelings for Hannah, nor has she had any such feels for me. At least not to my knowledge."

"Oh come on!" Dean throws himself back in his chair, head lolling back in exasperation.

"It's true. Besides, Hannah much prefers the company of other women."

Dean raises his head slowly to look at Cas, eyebrows drawn up in wonder. "Seriously?" he asks, and when Castiel nods, he further muses, "Guess she can encourage Charlie all she wants then."

"It would appear so," Castiel assents placidly.

It's another beat before Dean asks, "So if you two aren't... that way together, what's with all the looks and the touching?"

Castiel calmly sips at his drink, stating, "We grew close in our time together, and our time apart hasn't seemed to change that. We had much in common, she and I, among which was a mutual fondness of a certain individual."

"You both loved the same chick," Dean inuits.

Castiel nods. "In a manner of speaking, yes."

"That didn't cause any jealousy or anything?"

Cas shrugs. "Perhaps in the beginning, but Meg was liberal in her affections for us both, never veering from the idea that love should be doled out freely, without rules and regulations. She held to a pirate's creed, through and through."

"And you guys were okay with that?" Dean asks, disbelieving.

Castiel stares fondly into the amber liquid left swirling in the bottom of his glass, saying simply, "We loved her."

Dean is left cowed in the face of the admission, sure that he's never felt anything near the intensity that Cas is describing. Hesitantly, he asks, "So what happened?" He doesn't know what makes him say it; he's sure he must already know the answer.

Castiel's expression darkens briefly before smoothing into trained nothingness. "She died."

The air between them thickens, becoming cold and tense. Acting on instinct, Dean reaches across the table and covers Castiel's hand with his own. They're strong, he notes, the hands of someone who has worked hard, calloused and roughened. Castiel looks up at him, and Dean gets the impression this is a man who is lost, a man who feels he has lost. It tightens something in his chest to the point that his voice is rough, far rougher than normal, when he says, "I'm sorry for your loss."

Castiel's eyes lower, and something in Dean burns at losing the intensity of that gaze. "It was a long time ago," Castiel dismisses, despite the obvious pain he still feels.

Dean squeezes Cas's hand, drawing Castiel's attention back to him. "Hey," his voice has a gravity to it, emphasizing how important what he's about to say is, "just because it happened a long time ago doesn't mean it isn't still painful or sad."

Castiel nods, the movement small and abortive, but there's a shadow of a smile, the barest up-turn at the corner of his lips, that sends Dean's heart ratcheting about in his ribcage. When Castiel turns his hand palm-to-palm with Dean's, their fingers interlocking at awkward angles, and he squeezes back, it's like he's squeezing the breath out of Dean as well. "Thank you, Dean."

Somehow, despite the heart attack he's obviously having, Dean manages to smile back. "Anytime, buddy."

Castiel swipes his thumb over the skin of Dean's hand, the barest rough rub of flesh that Dean is half sure he imagines between the haze of exhaustion and alcohol, before he extracts his hand completely. Tipping his head back, Castiel downs the rest of the whiskey, Dean watching, like a man possessed, the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallows. It makes Dean’s throat run dry and his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth.

Cas places the now empty glass on the counter. "I believe I shall head to bed now, myself." He rises from the island in one swift, smooth motion. "Good night, Dean," he says as he walks by, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder as he passes.

It's a brief touch, there one second and then gone the next, but Dean can feel it like fire, searing into his skin.  

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Look, I'm sorry about earlier."  
> "You have nothing to be sorry for," Cas responds coolly. "I stepped beyond my bounds."

The place smells of mold and wood rot, no small feat on a colony.

They must really want me to feel intimidated, Anna finds herself thinking. Unfortunately for the idiots that currently have her tied up and blindfolded, she's more bored than anything else. It's almost like they don't know who they're dealing with.

She cocks her head to the side, listening as heavy footfalls clomp towards her. Boots, two pairs, she notes, better than common work boots - harder soles - but not standard issue military. Chromagnum headed lackeys, then.

A door opens and closes, the footfalls now in the room with her.

"Man, I don't feel right beating on a lady for information," one of them whispers. Anna rolls her eyes.

"Nut up," the other one growls. "Besides, she ain't no lady."

"Rude!" Anna accuses.

"You shut your trap, wench!" the second voice orders, stomping up in her space.

Anna can't help grinning. "You kiss your mother with that mouth? Probably the only one who will let you, right?"

There's an animalistic snarl and then she, along with the chair she's bound to, are tipped back violently.

"Calm down!" the other voice shouts, panic-laced. "Don't forget why we have her here!"

"And why is that exactly?" Anna asks conversationally. That curiosity had been pretty much the only thing keeping her in place. When she'd first come to, she'd been afraid Imperial Intelligence had finally caught up to her after all these years, but she'd realized quickly that these weren't their techniques. After that, it had become a waiting game.

"Speak when spoken to, woman!" the man closest to her snarls, letting the chair fall back down on all four legs.

This she finds herself frowning at. "Was never very good at that," she comments dully.

The man growls angrily, but the sound gets distanced from her, as though he is moving farther away.

The first voice speaks, now being the one that sounds closer. "Where is Castiel?" he demands.

Her frown deepens, creasing the lines in her forehead. "What? How the hell would I know that? I haven't seen him since Crowley took over."

"You're lying!" the first voice accuses.

"No, really not," Anna responds, utterly lost as to how any of this matters.

"We know he's been in contact with you!" the second voice howls. "He's gotten on a ship and spirited away his first! We have reason to believe you're next on his little reunion tour!"

Anna blinks behind the blindfold, absorbing and processing the information she's just received. Castiel is on a ship? Something has to have happened. When they'd parted, he made it very clear he wanted nothing to do with the life ever again. She's about to speak again, try to see how much more information she can get out of them, when the door slams open. The men shout angrily, but with the sound of only a few strikes of skin on skin and heavy thumps, it falls silent. The blindfold is ripped off her head, leaving her blinking against the sudden intrusion of light.

Once her eyes are adjusted, she glances at the two men on the floor and then back up at her rescuer - dark hair, broad shouldered, sex on legs with an awesome six-pack she knows he is toting under that black body armor shirt.

She scowls up at him. "I had it, you know."

He crosses behind her, untying the binds around her hands. "Could have fooled me."

She stands, rolling her wrists and shoulders to work out the kinks forming. "We can't all be so subtle, Michael," she teases.

Michael walks back around to stand before her, smirking down at her in quiet amusement. "I suppose that's why you were intelligence and I was the muscle."

"Suppose so," she murmurs, reaching up to place a chaste kiss to his lips. When she pulls away, she says, "We should probably get out of here. I'm sure you made a scene."

Michael looks back to the door, eyebrows knitted together in thought. "It was surprisingly empty."

Stepping ahead and brushing a hand against his arm, Anna states, "Someone will be looking for them to check in. They were trying to find out if I knew where Castiel is."

Michael turns wide eyes on in her surprise. "Castiel?"

Anna shrugs. "He's apparently hopped a ship and picked up Hannah. Good money says we're next."

"Not betting against you on that."

 

* * *

 

Despite his exhaustion, Dean had spent the night tossing and turning, barely catching a wink of sleep. He couldn't get Castiel's damn eyes or hands out of his head, and as a result, he plans to spend the day avoiding the guy. It should be easy enough to do it under the guise of ship business. At least, that's his plan until he runs into Charlie.

She's in the cockpit, starting a ship-wide system update while they have the chance.

"Morning, sleeping beauty!" she chirps, glancing over her shoulder as he enters. When she sees his face, dark circles and all, she actually grimaces. "Well, maybe 'beauty' is a strong word," she amends.

"Sleeping is a strong word, too," Dean grouses as he falls into the seat beside her.

Attention focused on the view screen and fingers tapping across the console, she asks, "Not sleep well?"

Slouching low in the chair and covering his eyes with his hand, rubbing at them, he responds, "Like shit."

"This have anything to do with a certain blue-eyed, dreamy pirate of lore?" The question sounds off-handed when she asks it, but when Dean peeks between his fingers he can see the little smirk she's wearing.

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," he denies.

"A little birdy told me that you two were up late last night in the kitchen."

Dean lowers his hand and narrows his eyes. "Would this 'little birdy' be named Hannah?"

"I never divulge my sources, Winchester," she says, but her smile says it all.

Dean groans. "How would she know? She went to bed like right after I walked in."

"So you did!" Charlie crows triumphantly.

"God damn it, Charlie!"

Dean sulks while Charlie laughs hysterically at his expense. When her laughter finally subsides, they sit in silence, Charlie's attention on her updates while Dean stares into space.

Dean is almost asleep again when Charlie ventures, "You can talk to me about it, you know."

"Talk to you about what?" he grumbles unpleasantly.

"You're super duper man crush." Dean can hear the damn eye roll as she says it.

"I don't have a man crush, Charlie."

Charlie huffs. "Psh, yeah right. He was your idol for how long? And now that he's here, I'm sorry, but there's no way you aren't at least a little starstruck. Hell, I am."

Tentatively, Dean queries, "You are?"

"Well, I mean, I'm way more into that second-in-command of his, but sure! And I know you are, too. So talk to me about it?" She stops what she's doing to stare him down. "Don't sit on this like the emotionally-stunted numb nuts you are, okay?"

Dean holds her gaze. He knows he can talk to Charlie about these things, knows it. She may tease him, but at least she'll offer help. He also knows she's right. Groaning in frustration, Dean throws his head back, raking his fingers through his hair.

"I don't know what to do, Charlie."

Turning her attention back to her task, she says, like it's the simplest thing in the world, "Talk to him."

Dean turns his head to look at her skeptically. "You really think that will work?"

She shrugs. "Why not? Look, you either get to know him and realize that he's totally not your type or you realize that he's exactly what you didn't know you were looking for. Either way, I think it works out. Besides, you can't ignore him forever. Would make this whole rescue mission a little awkward."

Dean gazes up at the ceiling. "Yeah, I guess..."

"You have to make a supply run, right? Ask him to go with you. I know he and Hannah were looking for ways to help. It'll get the two of you out and alone, give you a chance to spend some time together."

"It's not a date, Charlie."

"Never said it was." Still, she's smiling like she totally thinks it should be.

 

* * *

 

It this were a date, Dean can't help thinking it that it would go down as the worst one in history, and that's just basing it on the location alone. Not that it's anything near a date. Dean isn't even sure that's what any of this is about. It could just be simple hero worship, like Charlie said.

They're back in the Romulas district, placing orders at the market and paying the ridiculously marked up prices to have their goods delivered to the Impala. It's hot and it smells and they've barely spoken. Honestly, forget date, Dean thinks he's had shoot-outs more pleasant than this. At least those were fun.

Which makes it all the more unexpected when Cas suddenly says, "May I ask you a question?"

"Uh... yeah, sure. Why not?" Dean is staring at Cas, who is examining different fruits, testing them for ripeness in ways Dean never learned how to do. Sammy would know. The thought has an unpleasant feeling settling low in Dean's gut.

"Why did he do it?"

Dean blinks, confused by the lack of context. At his lack of response, Cas shoots him a look, explaining, "The reason you need me."

Ah, right, never know who's listening and all that, especially after what happened back on the moon.

"Pissed him off," Dean says, trying to go for casual despite the building rage he feels every time he thinks about the whole situation.

Castiel stands, posture straight, shoulders back, as he levels a stare at Dean that says he knows it isn't that simple.

"Look, does it really matter?" Dean snaps. "The guy is a douche. And what do you care anyway? It gonna change your damn mind?"

Castiel's stare hardens, and Dean can see the guy closing himself off. "My apologies, Dean," he says, voice icy cold. "I had assumed we could have an open dialogue. I obviously misinterpreted things."

Dean could fucking kick himself. Just cuz he's drowning in his own self-loathing is no reason to take it out on Castiel.

The rest of their trip to the market passes slowly and painfully in very uncomfortable silence. All Dean finds himself looking forward to is getting back to the ship, throwing himself down on his bed, and passing the fuck out.

 

* * *

 

When Dean wakes up, he isn’t quite sure that his nap did him any good at all. Honestly, he may feel worse than before he went to sleep. His mouth feels filmy, his eyes dry, and all he wants to do is burrow further into the blankets and pillows. However, he knows if he doesn't get up now and at least get something to drink, he's going to live to regret it.

When he steps out into the hall, the ship is quiet, the only sounds the low humming of her engine, and the lights are turned down low to mimic night. Just great, Dean thinks. Seems he slept the day away. He doesn't know if he's more shocked or thankful that his crew let him sleep.

He makes the trip to the kitchen and drinks his water there, leaning against the counter, completely unable to appreciate the rare moment of solitude. With the kitchen island in sight, all he can think about is last night's conversation with Cas, which leads to thinking about this afternoon's conversation with Cas and, of course, the stark difference between the two.

Unable to stomach the thought of another night lying awake in bed, he quickly washes his glass, puts it away, and heads to the cockpit. Some good ol' quality time with Baby will do him some good.

 

* * *

 

Dean is stuck standing in the doorway to the cockpit, stomach twisting itself into knots. When he saw Cas, he should have just turned around and walked away, but there's something about the somber look, almost lonely, in Castiel's eyes that keeps him rooted to the spot.

Cas has several windows open on the view screen, some picturing spacescapes and others buildings and streets.

Dean clears his throat, but Cas doesn't turn to look at him. Dean tries again, saying, "Jo will kill you if you mess with any of her pre-mapped trajectories."

"She and Charlie already argued over those," Castiel responds, eyes not leaving the view screen.

Dean blinks in confusion. "Huh?"

Finally, Cas turns in his seat to face Dean. "Apparently Charlie's upgrade deleted some of Jo's more 'out dated' paths." The guy even uses his fingers to make air-quotes.

Dean quirks an eyebrow "Out-dated?"

"Charlie's words," Castiel answers, turning once more to the view screen, this time closing some of the windows and opening others.

The thought of Cas interacting on his own with Dean's crew sends an odd sort of thrill down Dean's spine. There are thoughts like "maybe Cas can belong here" and "wouldn't it be great if they could all get along." It's all terribly sappy, so Dean slams a lid on it quicker than he's able to shoot a blaster.

Those thoughts put away, all that's left is the awkwardness from earlier. Dean hates it. No matter what confusing feelings Dean may have for the guy, he still needs Cas's help. Even more than that, he'd still like to be friends with the guy. Inhaling a deep breath through his nose, he trudges across the room to fall into the seat by Cas.

Castiel glances at Dean out of the corner of his eye but doesn't say anything. Dean takes to looking up at the windows. For the first time, he notices that there's actually movement in some of the images.

"What'cha got here?" he asks.

"Satellite images and live feeds from Colony AB-17 and the space around it."

Dean looks at Cas, impressed. "You know how to do that?"

Castiel shakes his head simply. "No. Charlie pulled them up for me before she went to bed. Complex computer systems have never been my strong suite."

Dean huffs out a laugh. "Heh, mine neither." Dean watches the screens, the few people milling the streets of AB-17 in the fading light of manufactured dusk. "What're we looking for?" he asks.

"I'm trying to get hints as to where Anna and Michael may be hiding. So far, I'm afraid I haven't had much luck."

"You sure this is where they are?"

Castiel nods. "The Alliance turns a mostly blind eye to this place, while it remains a mostly civilian colony with few criminals braving abuse of power due to the local militia. It would be the safest place for them."

"Way you say it, sounds like they don't have many friends."

"They don't," Castiel states plainly.

Silence settles over them again as they pass the time watching cameras. It may not be awkward, but it still leaves Dean's skin itching unpleasantly. When it begins to feel unbearable, he abruptly says, "Look, I'm sorry about earlier."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Cas responds coolly. "I stepped beyond my bounds."

Frustration nagging at him, Dean turns in his chair to face Cas. "No, you weren't. I just get touchy about the issue, ya know? But you have every right to know, so -" Dean hesitates, tongue sticking to the roof of his suddenly dry mouth. Swallowing around his cottonmouth, he continues, "- So if you still want to know, I'll tell you."

Castiel finally, finally turns his undivided attention on Dean. "If you want to tell me, I will be happy to listen," he says, so earnestly that it scratches at Dean's ribcage in attempts to reach his heart.

Dean gives a shaky nod of his head. "Right, so, I stole some cargo from Crowley. Well, consistently stole some cargo from Crowley. Started with finding out he had lifted a shipment of medication from an alliance cargo hold, so I stole it back and snuck it back to where it belonged. Then came a shipment of slaves, which I couldn't let slide. After that, I guess I just sort of started making it my personal mission to be a pain in the guy's side."

When Dean chances a glance up, Cas is mildly smirking, looking amused. It gives Dean the confidence he needs to continue. "So it kept going, and I kept evading Crowley's attempts to catch me or kill me or whatever. Guess when he couldn't get me, he thought he'd go after my brother. Poor kid had nothing to do with any of it. Left the life Dad started us on to actually go fight for the right in the world. At least he tried to, until my stupid ass got him dragged into all this mess." Dean hangs his head, nails biting into his palms as he tightens his fists in his lap.

Cas reaches across the space between them and places his hand on one of Dean's. "This isn't your fault, Dean. You were trying to do the right thing, too."

When Dean looks up, following the length of Cas's arm with his eyes, he finds kindness in Castiel's face. And understanding.

"He's the one who did it, isn't he?" Dean asks. He doesn't have to clarify that he means "killed Meg" because Cas is already nodding.

"Crowley doesn't care for people that he perceives to be in his way," Castiel says quietly, a bitter bite to his tone.

This time it's Dean who turns his hand up so that it's palm-to-palm with Cas's. He wraps his fingers around Castiel's hand and squeezes gently. "We'll bring him down, Cas," he promises.

Castiel squeezes back, determination gleaming in the blues of his eyes. "And we'll save your brother," he asserts.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eyebrows up in her hairline, Hannah asks in startled wonder, "What is that?"
> 
> "Personal laser cannon," Anna answers easily, as though it isn't a big deal at all.
> 
> Closing her eyes for a moment to just absorb that information, Hannah finally repeats in bemused exasperation, "Just like conspiracy theorists."

 

Colony AB-17 is an odd sort of place where neither Alliance nor carta deign to tread. It was humankind's first foray into stand alone colonization, away from planets or moons. It was ultimately deemed a drain on Alliance resources, and was promptly regarded as a failed experiment and not worth pursuing further. However, the scientists who had created, worked on, and long lived on the colony decided they weren't quite as ready as the Alliance might be to leave the fruit of their labors to become space trash. After much posturing on both sides, it was finally decided that the scientists could live on the colony as long as they so chose, but the Alliance would no longer provide any funding or resources to it. They expected the people living there to be forced to leave within scant months.

However, much to the chagrin of the Alliance, upon finding out that a place away from the ever-present eyes of the Alliance existed, more and more people found their way to the colony, bringing with them the necessities of continued life there. Colony AB-17 became a safe haven for those who sought asylum from Alliance rule, which mostly consisted of turned out carta agents and runaway military, making it a formidable place for even the motliest of individuals to seek out trouble.

Now, AB-17 remains upheld by scientists, most of them trained on-colony, as it houses one of the best universities in the solar system, while it is protected by its own local militia that consists of former military, carta, and people who are just plain good at fighting.

It is its own stronghold against a galaxy at constant odds with itself, and it can take months, if not years, for one to even be granted admittance to the place, which leaves the crew of the Impala in quite the predicament as they orbit a safe distance away.

"So this is it, then? The next stop on the get-the-band-back-together tour, and we can't even get in?" Ash asks, though not unkindly.

"I've put out a landing request," Jo answers from her place at the helm, "but it's basically been put on hold. More than likely, even if they get back to us, they won't let us in. At least not without a damn good reason, so we better get to brainstorming."

Dean curses under his breath. "So we're seriously stalled out here?" Jo's only answer is a what-can-you-do shrug of her shoulders.

"Dean," Ash addresses his captain with a gravity to his words, "we can't stay here forever. I've got us idling in stealth mode for now, so to any passing ships, we don't exist on their radars, but Crowley, man? He's searching for us pretty hard. He's gonna catch onto us eventually."

Dean falls back into his seat, frustration evident on his features. Glancing at Castiel and Hannah, he asks, "These are your people. You have any ideas?"

Hannah and Cas exchange a thoughtful look.

"It's entirely possible that Crowley knows what we're up to," Hannah muses. "He razed your home, and he has eyes all in the Romulas district."

"People will notice you missing," Castiel intuits.

Hannah nods. "That's just assuming you weren't actually spotted, but yes, my absence will be noticed one way or another, I'm sure."

"You're saying he may already have known where you were headed, gotten a step ahead of us?" Charlie guesses.

"Yes," Castiel answers.

Jo turns around in her seat, asking in concern, "So we may be too late?"

Hannah shakes her head, looking bemused, while Castiel smiles ruefully. "They are a hard pair to pin down."

Charlie narrows her eyes speculatively. "How so?"

"They're ex-military," Hannah explains, " deserters. Anna was intelligence and infiltration, while Michael was elite task force."

Ash whistles low. "Those are impressive resumes."

"No kidding," Dean adds. "So basically, you're saying even if Crowley caught on, we haven't lost much."

"Honestly, it's preferable if he did figure it out," Castiel says. "At least it is if he already made a move. Then they’ll know we're looking for them."

Hannah adds, "And they will probably be looking for us, as well."

Castiel turns to Charlie. "Would you by chance be able to put out an encrypted signal? Something to let Anna know we're here."

Charlie nods. "Yeah, that shouldn't be hard at all. Someone like her? There should be no issue with the decryption side."

"Great," Dean huffs. "So now we've got that settled, what? We just sit on our asses hoping they do know we're looking for them and that maybe they'll catch our signal?"

Jo clears her throat, looking at Hannah, "Actually, you have a missionary visa, right?"

Hannah nods. "I do."

Addressing the rest of the room now, Jo says, "There's no reason they wouldn't let someone like that who's in a small shuttle into the colony. She could go in no problem, or, well, minimal problem, anyway, and try searching for them."

"Great!" Dean exclaims, leaping out of his seat. "Ash, my man," he claps a hand down on his engineer's shoulder, "get the breakaway shuttle ready!"

Within a few hours, they have the shuttle prepped and are sending Hannah off to the colony, stripped of anything that could tie her back to a crew or would make her look any less than a well-meaning missionary simply looking to provide aid where it is needed. Not long after she's gone, Charlie heads off to create and send off the encrypted message and wait for a reply.

* * *

 

Within only a few hours, Hannah is granted entrance to the colony. She credits the ease of her admittance to her good references and all the work she's done since they deposed Lucifer. The fact that she legally changed her name not long after they deposed him doesn't hurt much, either.

However, since there isn't much she can do to actively search out Anna and Michael, she makes herself plenty visible. It may not be the safest course of action; after all, if Crowley's men are somehow on the satellite, she's just as visible to them as she is to anyone else, especially if they're expecting Castiel to search out the rest of his crew. Still, her hope is that by staying out in the open and obvious, it won't take long before Anna and Michael catch on and seek her out.

To her great relief, she only has to wander around the market for the better part of an hour and a half before a wide hand slips around her arm and leads her through the crowds.

“Act natural,” a voice whispers into her ear, and she smiles because she would recognize that voice anywhere. She links arms with Michael and lets him lead her off into the side streets.

“I wasn't expecting you yet,” Michael says casually, “I thought you were going to be visiting with mother for another week, yet.”

Hannah casts her gaze about – there, down an alleyway back and to her left she spots no less than two men. “Mother sent me for you,” Hannah answers, playing her part, “her condition has worsened.”

“The prognosis?” Michael ushers them along, walking quicker but not so much as to be obvious to their spectators.

“She thinks it isn't long until she will be joining Father in the great beyond.”

Michael's fingers twitch. “She's the one that has been calling us then?”

Hannah nods. “She was concerned I may not reach you in time. Have you called her back?”

He shakes his head. “The missus has been trying to reach her, though. Seems they're playing tag about it.”

Hannah tries not to snort at the thought of Anna being referred to as “the missus” because though she may well be Michael's wife, she isn't exactly the sort to define herself as such. But it's good that they received the signal, and if Anna is having trouble decoding it, they definitely don't have to worry that anyone else did.

“We suspected something was wrong, though,” Michael continues, “so she has started packing our luggage for the trip.”

"The sooner we can leave, the better," Hannah asserts.

They continue their walk in silence, feigning casualness as they take every note of their surroundings. As far as Hannah can tell, it's still only the same two men following them.

They also seem to be making no detours or winding around in order to lose them, so she asks, "Will your wife be expecting the company?"

There's a sort of amusement twinkling in Michael's eyes when he glances at her and answers, "She is always prepared for company."

Of course she is, Hannah thinks wryly. She had almost forgotten just what a handful these two were. Almost.

* * *

 

Dean pokes his head into Castiel's quarters, finding the pirate sitting on his bed, bowed over and in thought.

“You worried?” Dean asks.

Castiel glances up at him, studies him, before looking back to where his hands are clasped between his knees and gently shaking his head no. “Despite her appearance, Hannah is more than capable. She'll be fine.”

Dean smirks, stepping into the room enough to lean against the door frame. “Yeah, figured she had to be. Doesn't mean you can't be worried about her though.”

Castiel looks back up, meeting Dean's gaze this time, pinning the man down. Dean valiantly ignores the way his heart stutters in his chest. "No, I suppose it doesn't," Castiel responds softly.

They remain as they are for a long, drawn out moment, staring each other down in some unfathomable way that Dean can't explain the reasoning behind. Licking his lips nervously, Dean stutters out, "So uh, it sounds like this Anna chick is just as good as you led us to believe. According to Charlie, the signal has already been intercepted and is about half decrypted. Hell, could be more by now. At any rate, Charlie seemed impressed.

Castiel nods, breaking the connection between them, allowing Dean the ability to breathe a little more freely. "Anna is a genius at what she does."

"How'd you come by them, anyway?" Dean asks, voicing the curiosity that has been nagging at him since their earlier crew meeting. "Military deserters turned pirate? Seems like a rare thing to come by."

Cas shrugs. "Meg found them. She found all of us. They were her crew long before they were ever mine."

Dean's brows knit together. "So wait... your girlfriend is the one that brought you all together?"

Castiel's expression is drawn and tired. "All but one."

"Who?"

Castiel shakes his head. "That is my burden to bear."

* * *

 

Standing in the basement of Anna and Michael's home, surrounded on all sides by various wires, computer equipment, and other amalgamate technology that is so far over Hannah's head that she can't even begin to fathom their functions, all she can honestly say is, "You two live like conspiracy theorists."

Anna laughs inelegantly, while Michael smiles blithely in amusement. With a shrug of her shoulders, Anna replies, "We were already military deserters cum pirates. Conspiracy theorists seemed like the next obvious step."

Hannah's face pinches together in consternation. "You aren't though, right? Conspiracy theorists, I mean."

Michael places a kind hand on her shoulder and shakes his head. "No, we're not."

Anna rolls her eyes good-naturedly while returning her attention to the giant setup of monitors and keyboards in front of her, typing away on one of them. "Whoever created this message is good, I'll give them that."

"Charlie is very adept at what she does," Hannah responds, to which Anna and Michael exchange sly looks.

Hannah blinks at them. "What?"

"Looks like somebody has a crush," Anna teases

Hannah's face lights up pink, and she scowls. "I do not know what you're talking about."

Michael shakes his head, still smiling. "Nothing. We're simply happy to see you’ve moved on."

Hannah searches both of their faces, and, finding no maliciousness in either expression, she sighs in defeat. "At any rate, shouldn't we be leaving? We were followed, after all."

"Just one. More. Second," Anna says, fully concentrating on whatever it is she's doing on the computer. With one final keystroke, she exclaims, "There! Alright, now we can go."

"What did you do?" Hannah asks, turning as she watches Anna cross the room.

Shouldering her duffle while Michael does the same, Anna responds, "Just letting your buddies know we'll be on our way and to be ready."

Michael holds out an antiquated blaster towards Hannah, who accepts it. Looking up into Michael's solemn eyes, she dubiously asks, "We aren't going to be welcomed back here, are we?"

Michael shakes his head. "I would imagine it will be highly unlikely."

"Bright side, neither will Crowley's bastards," Anna interjects, hefting up a giant, makeshift gun that is almost as big as her and looks like it weighs just as much, as well.

Eyebrows up in her hairline, Hannah asks in startled wonder, "What is that?"

"Personal laser cannon," Anna answers easily, as though it isn't a big deal at all.

Closing her eyes for a moment to just absorb that information, Hannah finally repeats in bemused exasperation, "Just like conspiracy theorists."

* * *

 

The intercom system throughout the Impala crackles to life, Charlie's voice ringing loud and clear as she announces, "I've received a return transmission. It looks like they're on their way back, though the the afterword of 'Incoming' seems, at least to me, like we should be ready for them to be coming in in a hurry."

* * *

 

As soon as they open the door that leads out to the streets, all hell breaks loose. Crowley's men are lying in wait, guns ready. Unfortunately for them, Anna's gun is much, much bigger.

Her shout of, "Incoming!" is the only warning Hannah and Michael have or need to duck down out of the way before she's firing off the laser cannon. Even with the formidable kickback of it that would have left Hannah sprawled across her back, Anna is still standing, the cannon buzzing as it recharges. Instead of waiting, however, she tosses it, and the three make a run for it, covered by the smoke and debris created by the blast and the throng of rubberneckers suddenly accumulating to see what in the world is going on.

Angry shouts follow them, even as they clear the chaos, running at full speed through people and any other obstacles towards the port. They're caught halfway there, and Hannah isn't able to tell whether it's Crowley's men or the local militia. As it doesn't much matter either way, she twists and delivers a solid roundhouse kick to a man who grabs her arm. It's all so exhilarating in a way that her upscale society mother back on Titan would find appalling, and it reminds Hannah of all the reasons she left home and started pirating to begin with.

She keeps running, fighting off and evading anyone who tries to stop her, and she can see Michael doing the same. Anna isn't within her line of sight, but as Michael isn't concerned, Hannah has no reason to be, either. Anna's very job was once disappearing, after all. So long as she makes it to the shuttle, the way in which she does it doesn't much matter.

They finally break free from their pursuers, angry shouts and blasterfire following in their wake. Free of the scuffle, Anna finally reappears, none the worse for wear, and Hannah considers for a moment feeling envious of the woman's ability to avoid black eyes and busted lips, but in the end considers it not worth it. Maybe it's rebellion against her cultured upbringing, but Hannah loves a good fight, finds something life affirming in scraping for her own skin.

By the time the spaceport is in sight, Hannah's lungs are burning with exertion in a way they haven't in years. She had felt filled with purpose in her time as a missionary, but this? This, Hannah thinks, is living.

They blow their way through the port's scant staff, only having to aim blasters and threaten, never once needing to actually shoot, which is good since they really have no want to injure innocent civilians.

Only one person gives an honest effort to stop them - the young man, almost a boy, who works the console that opens the hangers. However, when Anna places the barrel of a blaster in the center of his forehead and asks, smiling challengingly, "Are you really planning on keeping us from our shuttle?" he quickly opens it.

They board swiftly, Hannah taking the pilot's seat while Anna takes the co-pilot's, hacking through port authority security and allowing them passage out of the colony.

* * *

 

As soon as the breakaway shuttle fully reconnects, the Impala is shuddering, engines powered to full thrust in order to quickly escape the space around AB-17.

Anna looks equal parts amused and impressed when she comments, "Looks like this Charlie of yours got my message."

Hannah beams proudly, still feeling jittery from the adrenaline rush.

As soon as they exit the breakaway, Hannah leads them to the cockpit, where, it seems, everyone has gathered.

Castiel takes one look at the three of them, and, unimpressed, says, "We're never going to be able to come near here again, are we?"

His reunited crew promptly dissolves into all-consuming laughter.

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Will you -- " Castiel pauses, wetting his dry lips with his tongue. "Will you stay with me? I know it's probably very un-pirately of me, but I don't think I want to be alone tonight."

 

As soon as the return party sobers up from their adrenaline high, introductions are made. When Castiel gets to Charlie, Anna looks the younger woman up and down, appraising her.

"You're the one that sent that message?" Anna asks with a lack of inflection that gives no indication of just what she thinks on the matter.

That doesn't matter, nor does the fact that Anna broke down the code in record time. Charlie knows she's damn good at what she does, so, back straightened, she confidently says, "Damn straight!" She bites her tongue against saying "Which, ironically enough, I'm not." Okay, so maybe she's a little nervous about what Anna thinks of her skills.

A pleased smirk tips the corners of Anna's lips upwards. "You're good."

Some tension melts out of Charlie's shoulders at the compliment. With a wide grin, she claims, "Of course! They don't call me Charlie the Great for nothing!"

"I'm pretty sure no one calls you that," Jo interjects.

"I call me that!" Charlie shoots back.

Jo rolls her eyes, and then the introductions continue.

Once all is said and done, Anna casts her eyes around the cockpit. When her eyes land back on Dean, she comments, "Nice ship you've got here. It's an old, civilian transport chassis, right? Luxury model, from the size of it. You know this ship could hold a crew twice this size, right?"

Dean shrugs casually. "Don't need a crew twice this size. We do fine with what we have, plus more people just means more mouths to feed and more ways to split the pay."

A smile on his lips and an amused quirk on his brow, Castiel asks, "Are you done interrogating them, Anna? I assume they meet your incredibly high standards?"

Anna shoots Cas a mock glare. "They're passable," she jokes. Looking back to Dean, she says, more seriously, "You do have a nice ship and crew, a lot of talent here, it would seem." Looking the rest of the crew over, she asks, "So who replaced the engine? It's a professional racing model, right?"

"Sorry, she's a bit of a tech geek," says Michael.

Ash whistles low. "Totally fine. She's good at it. The speed give it away?"

"That, and they sound different than most other engines out on the market."

Ash looks at Castiel. "She's really good, man."

Castiel lifts one shoulder, as if to say You aren’t telling me anything I don't know.

"Guys, I hate to interrupt," Jo says, "but I'd really like to get some more space between us and AB-17. And I'm sure Anna, Michael, and Hannah would love to get some rest. Considering the chatter coming from AB-17's airwaves, sounds like they earned it."

Dean adopts his patented Captain Look, and nods. "Right. Get us out of here, Jo." He turns to Anna and Michael. "And I'll show you guys to your quarters."

* * *

 

Castiel knocks on the door to Anna and Michael's room, poking his head in at the call of "Come in."

"I was just checking to see how you two were doing."

"Come in means come in," Michael responds brusquely from where he's standing, shirtless, and sorting the couple's scant belongings into the small dresser.

Cas glances at Anna, who just watches him expectantly. He shuffles into the room, the door sliding shut behind him.

Anna finally breaks out in a smile, pulling her knees up to her chest and patting the newly empty spot on the bed. "Come sit with me!"

Castiel glances at Michael, offering the man a small smile. Michael returns it before turning his back to them both and returning to his task.

Castiel settles into the spot near Anna's feet, mentally preparing himself against whatever lecture she has ready for him.

Instead, Anna only asks, "How are you?"

Castiel blinks in surprise.

"Don't look so shocked," she admonishes. "I have plenty of other questions, we both do, but first I need to see what it is I'm dealing with here."

"What my socially awkward wife is trying to say," Michael interjects, turned to face them as he leans against the dresser, a half-folded shirt in his hands, "is that we were once friends, Castiel. We know the state you were in when we parted, so imagine our surprise when we find out you're on a ship and collecting the old crew, with Crowley's men tailing you, no less."

Castiel blinks owlishly, once, twice, and then he says, " That may be the most I've ever heard you say at once."

The soft hint of a smile graces Michael's features. "Civilian life taught me that I frequently have to work as the official Anna translator. People don't often like feeling as though they're being interrogated."

Castiel chances a glance at Anna only to find that she's glaring petulantly at her husband. An honest smile spreads across Castiel's lips. "Civilian life seems to have done the two of you well."

Anna turns back to Castiel, trying her damndest to look more caring and concerned this time. It warms Castiel's heart. "And what about you?" she asks. "Really. When you left, you said you just wanted to live a simple life away from the world, yet here you are aboard the S.S. Over-Compensation with the Dread Pirate McDreamy."

Castiel crinkles his nose in distaste. "I'm not so sure about those descriptors, Anna."

"They're accurate, trust me," she responds sagely. Placing her hand on his shoulder and squeezing just enough to let him know she won't allow him to avoid the question any longer, she asks again, "So what happened?"

With a sigh, Castiel casts his eyes down to his lap, the smile slipping from his face until all that's left is a look of defeat and exhaustion. "That had been the plan, yes. I did it for a good while - lived on the moon and raised bees."

Anna resists the urge to joke that yes, that sounds about right. Instead, she remains silent and lets him speak his peace.

He begins picking absently at errant pieces of balled up fuzz on the blanket. "It was calming. A little lonely at times, perhaps, but I reasoned that I deserved such things."

Anna's hand slides down his arm to rest comfortingly on top of his hand.

"There was a man by the name of Cain who lived on the property next to mine. We became some sort of variation of friends. It was more like he looked out for me, made sure I took care of myself on the days when I didn't think I could go on."

Anna's fingers twitch against him, as though she wants to squeeze his hand in reassurance. The passing thought of civilian life really has softened her passes warmly through Castiel's mind.

"He said he saw a bit of himself in me, something about the pain of losing a loved one. He never told me, but I believe it was his wife that he lost judging by the pictures in his home. I eventually told him everything, who I was, what had happened. I just... I needed someone to... I don't know, tell me it wasn't my fault?" This time, Anna's hand does wrap around his, her slender fingers massaging into his palm. "I was content to continue my life there, even after Dean initially showed up with a story of how Crowley had kidnapped his brother and how he needed my help. I told him no and had him escorted from my home.

"Cain and I spoke that night, I told him how guilty I felt, that because of my actions, more people were being hurt by Crowley, innocent people. It's something I guess I knew, but I had never been confronted with it.

"Later that night we became aware of people making their way towards my property. Cain and I hid in the shelter under his house. When I finally re-emerged hours later, my house and my land had been destroyed. Dean and his crew were there, looking horrified. I realized they must have come for me.

"Anna, the looks on their faces, so devastated despite not knowing me... I couldn't - can't let Crowley do that to anymore people."

"Castiel - "

* * *

 

Dean knows he shouldn't be eavesdropping, and hell, it's not as though he came here with the express purpose of doing it. He'd just come to check in on their newest additions to the crew when he'd overheard Cas's voice. He'd stopped and waited a moment, trying to gauge if it was okay to interrupt (and if he'd wanted a small glance of what his childhood hero was like with members of his old crew, ones that didn't make Dean fifty different shades of jealous, could anyone really judge him?). The longer he waited, the more awkward it seemed to become to think about interrupting. Now he's just stuck there, plain and simple, seeming to forget that walking away was ever an option, and he can't help marveling over how every new person he sees Castiel interact with seems to bring out a different version of the man. The thought I want to know them all passes through Dean's head before he can even register it, nevermind stop it.

His heart about stops in his chest when he sees Ash heading down the hall towards him. Dean quickly straightens, trying to adopt a casual pose and look like he just got here. If the amused look on Ash's face is anything to go by, Dean would say he probably failed miserably.

"Hey Dean!" Ash calls out, far louder than necessary and looking far too smug for his own good. When the door beside him opens, he prays to whatever errant deity may be listening that his face doesn't look as red as it feels.

Michael is standing in the doorway, looking judgemental and intimidating as hell with all those cut muscles, and okay, maybe now Dean does feel a little jealous of these two members of Castiel's crew, as well, because no one should be that damned ripped.

Behind Michael, he can make out Anna and Cas on the bed. While Anna is watching him suspiciously, Cas simply looks curious. When Dean manages to catch those blue eyes with his own, some of his nerves immediately settle.

When Ash reaches them, he gives a brief jerk of his chin in greeting to the stupid sculpture in the door, saying, "Michael." When he spots Cas and Anna, he's much friendlier towards them, offering a smile and a brief wave. "Anna, Cas." Then he's shooting that damn smug look Dean's way again, saying, "Sorry if I bothered you guys, was just looking for our fearless leader here."

Dean makes a mental note to refill Ash's beer bottles with what's left of the antelope piss they found for that buyer a few months back. Shit's worth gold, but so is getting back at Ash.

"What did you need, Ash?" Dean asks, trying not to come off as infuriated as he feels.

"Wanted to let you know that after all this running around, we're going to need to refuel soon, which is going to require money that we are sorely lacking in."

"So we need a job," Dean finishes for him.

Ash flashes a thumbs up. "You got it."

Sighing and raking a hand through his hair, Dean responds, "I'll go find Jo and Charlie, and we'll get on it." He honestly should have expected this. It's not like they'd been making much money lately what with Crowley chasing after them and then Sam being taken.

* * *

 

Much, much later that evening finds Dean sitting at the island in the kitchen, a hot cup of java at his elbow, as he pours over the schematics of some rich yahoo's private luxury liner. The thing is honestly ridiculous. Who needs that much room on a ship?

Feeling as though he's being watched, Dean twists in his seat to look behind him. He finds Castiel loitering in the doorway, watching him uncertainly.

"I wanted a glass of water," Castiel says, as though that actually explains why he's just standing there.

"Okay...?"

"I was concerned you would be in as foul a mood as Jo seems to be."

At that, Dean cracks a smile. "Wandered into the cockpit, huh?"

Castiel frowns, the expression petulant and, dare Dean even think it, kind of adorable. "Yes."

Dean chuckles, the sound soft and more an exhale of breath than an actual, tangible noise. "Yeah, she's having to figure out how to tail this big luxury liner and get us close enough to board it without being seen. She can do it, but she's gonna bitch about it the whole way."

"You found a job then, I take it?"

"Sure did. Gonna steal some ancient relic from some guy with too much money and sell it to another guy with too much money who has an interest in the thing."

Sporting a small smile, Castiel muses, "Ah yes, a pirate's life for me."

Dean laughs again, louder this time, the sound punched out of him. "Just get your damn water, Cas," he says with a complete lack of maliciousness, shaking his head in amusement.

Castiel bows his head, a soft smile still on his lips. "Of course."

As Cas gets his drink, Dean watches the play of the overhead lights across Castiel's back as they create shadows and images across the planes of bone, skin, and fabric.

"Actually, why don't you sit with me for a bit?"

Castiel watches him out of the corner of his eye. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah! God knows I could use a damn break from looking over all this. I feel like my brain is about to leak out of my ears if I have to stare at it any longer."

Castiel narrows his eyes at the comment, obviously finding little correlation between melting brains and tired eyes, but he doesn't mention anything about it. Instead, he just nods and says, "Okay."

Cas sets his glass down on the island and settles down into the seat beside Dean. His eyes trail across the countertop to the blueprint. "May I?" he asks.

Dean follows his gaze. "Uh, yeah, sure."

Castiel pulls the schematic in front of him, eyes flicking back and forth quickly as he studies the map, nodding to himself as he makes mental notes about the layout. Finally, he looks away from the map and back up at Dean, saying, "We can help you with this if you'd like."

Dean mulls it over for a moment. His knee-jerk response is to say no, seeing as how Cas's crew and his own have never actually done any "field work" together. However, this is the crew of the Winged Ravager they're talking about. They aren't exactly slouches, quite the opposite in fact. Hell, the way Dean sees it, as legendarily good as they are, Dean's crew can only benefit from their help.

Finally, he answers, "Yeah, they'd be great actually." The blinding smile he receives from Cas makes it so that the only regret Dean has is not saying it sooner.

They fall into companionable silence as they both look over the schematic that now sits between them. The silence eventually gives way to planning and discussion of the easiest routes to their heist.

It's completely out of the blue when Cas says, "You just left earlier."

Dean stills, then blinks, trying to clear the surprise out of him. "What?"

Cas turns to him, steel in his gaze that sends a not-entirely-displeasing shiver all the way down Dean’s spine and on through the rest of his body. "You just left Michael and Anna's room earlier."

"Ash needed me to find a job," Dean responds lamely.

"And you weren't trying to get away?" Castiel challenges.

"Get away? What the hell are you talking about?"

The steel melts away just enough for Dean to see sadness in Castiel's eyes, to see the loneliness that he had mentioned earlier. "You overheard, didn't you? What I was saying to Anna?"

Dean fights the urge to avert Castiel's gaze, not wanting to give the wrong impression. He manages to nod, still meeting Cas's eyes. "I did."

Castiel crumples in on himself.

Without though, Dean reaches out, grabbing onto Castiel's hands, holds them tightly. "I heard you saying that you want to do good, that despite hurting and wanting nothing to do with any of this anymore, you're going to stand up and fight for what's right."

There's a small hitch in Cas's breath, the barest shake of his shoulders, and so Dean pulls him in closer, until Cas is wrapped up in his arms, resting against him. He could be worrying about how this is a chick flick moment, how he doesn't typically do the emotional or literal shoulder to cry on thing, but instead, turning his face into Castiel's hair, catching the faint whiff of the clean scent of his shampoo, he says, "I also heard you stand up for me and my ship against Anna's bullying. Thanks, man."

Cas laughs, and Dean is polite enough to pretend the sound isn't doused in water. They sit in silence, Dean just holding Castiel, offering comfort and support the only way he can think to.

Finally, Cas rasps, "Dean."

"Yeah, Cas?"

"We should probably go to bed."

Dean ignores the disappointment he feels at the statement, at the thought of letting Cas go. "Course. We got a big day tomorrow, after all."

As Dean makes to unwrap his arms from around Castiel, Cas wraps a hand around Dean's arm, effectively stopping him. "Will you -" Castiel pauses, wetting his dry lips with his tongue. "Will you stay with me? I know it's probably very un-pirately of me, but I don't think I want to be alone tonight."

Dean's heart jumps to double time, and he suddenly finds it hard to breathe. Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he answers breathily, "Yeah. Yeah, Cas, I will."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel steps forward, finally, and reaches for him, wrapping a calloused hand around Dean's wrist. "Dean, are you sure you're okay?" he asks, concern heavy and undiluted.
> 
> "Never better," he murmurs, and then he's kissing Castiel, a chaste brush of lips that lights a fire in his chest and just feels right.

Dean wakes up the next morning with Cas still snoozing away in his arms and feeling better than he can remember feeling in a long time. They'd done nothing more than sleep last night - curling into bed, fully clothed, not so much as a kiss exchanged. Dean considers that he could be frustrated, but there is something so easy and calming about having Cas here like this, their legs tangled together under the blanket with no ulterior motives. Dean can smell the soap on Cas that he'd used to shower with yesterday, but after sleeping, he can also smell that natural scent that can only be described as Cas.

Dean falls back to sleep, figuring they still have time before they need to be up judging by the still low lighting coming from under the door.

* * *

 

“So let me get this straight. You're telling me that Castiel has not only collected the rest of his crew, but that he has also teamed up with Dean Winchester?” Crowley purrs down at the man quivering in front of his throne.

“Apologies, sir,” the man replies, quaking in his boots, trying to look anywhere but at his boss. “We tried to stop them on AB-17, but they were just too much for us.”

“Of course they were,” Crowley replies calmly, swirling the wine in his glass – a Jovian blend, all amber and warmth, golds flecked throughout. “Considering you couldn't manage to kill Castiel when it was just him, alone and unsuspecting and unarmed, do you truly think I believed you could get rid those three?”

“Sir?” the man asks, lost and confused, starting to feel slightly more at ease.

“Oh, you shouldn't feel too badly, of course,” Crowley reassures. “After all, the AB-17 militia couldn't catch them either.”

“Tr-True, sir.”

“Granted they weren't supposed to have the jump on them!” Crowley roars, standing up and towering over the man below him. The man yelps and returns to cowering in fear. Seemingly calmed, Crowley lowers back into his throne. “No worries, though. This could very well work out in our favor.” He sips at his wine, then stares into the glass as he swishes the beverage across his palate. It's rich and full-bodied, pleasing, the best batch smuggled in yet.

“U-Um... Sir?”

Crowley glances up at him boredly. “You're still here? Ugh, of course you are. Useless, the lot of you. Keep an eye on them. I want to know everything that they do.” He waves his hand, dismissing the man.

As the man starts to scamper away, Crowley calls after him, “And do be aware you'll need to up the effort on the bugs. With Anna on board, it will only make our jobs harder.”

* * *

 

“Any question?” Dean asks the assembly in front of him, having just explained the game plan for the heist.

Anna raises her hand, a half-assed movement, fingers whisking briefly through the air. “I have one.”

She's honestly the last person Dean expected to have any confusion from. He nods at her. “Okay, shoot.”

“Are all your plans so boring?”

“Anna,” Hannah hisses in admonishment.

Anna glances at the other woman, innocent expression on her face. “What? I'm serious. I didn't think I'd signed up to be a pirate so I could be bored to tears.”

Dean clenches and unclenches his fists, taking a deep, calming breath in through his nose. “If you think it's so boring, take it up with Cas, too. He helped come up with this.”

Anna looks to Castiel, earnestly. “I love you, but you know you were never exactly the life of the party, right?”

Hannah hangs her head in shame; Michael simply looks defeated; and Castiel sighs, a heaving, tired sound of exasperation. “And what would you suggest, Anna?” he patiently asks.

Proudly, she responds, “I think we should make a game of it.”

This perks Charlie's interest. “Oo, a game!” At Dean's disapproving look, her shoulders hunch in a little, and she rephrases, “I mean, 'oh, a game?'”

Anna looks to each of them as she says, “Well, more a friendly competition.”

“Anna, I don't think –“ Dean starts.

Ash interrupts him. “Hang on, this could be interesting.”

The pseudo-complement has Anna grinning proudly in a way that only makes Dean feel more ill at ease. “Why don't we break up into teams? Dean's crew versus Castiel's? Which ever team reaches that god awful relic first, wins.”

“What do we win!?” Charlie asks in excitement.

“Charlie, hang on!” Dean interjects, trying to be the voice of reason. He doesn't know why he bothers since she just rolls her eyes at him and mutters, “Party pooper.”

“Look,” Dean reasons, addressing Anna, “this doesn't exactly seem like fair odds. All four of you are supposed to board, while only Charlie and me are going down from my crew.”

Anna shrugs, and he thinks she may be conceding to his point until she says, “Well, yeah, but Jo's going to be your ears from up here, and Ash is going to be helping with hacking into the system from up here, right?” Ash and Jo nod. “So really, you guys will have more technology at hand. And how about this? We'll even give you a handicap. We won't talk to one another. That sound fair?”

“That's not the point,” Dean argues.

His last leg to stand on crumbles as Jo says, “I think that sounds fun, but I'm with Charlie. What do we win?”

“Winning team doesn't have to do chores for two weeks?” Hannah suggests. At Castiel's sharp glance, she at least has the good graces to look a little sheepish. “Just a suggestion.”

“See? Everyone's on board,” Anna tells Dean.

Making one last attempt at arguing, Dean challenges, “What about Cas?”

Castiel smiles shyly at Dean and gives a small shrug of his shoulders. “If you can't beat them, join them?”

“It's settled then!” Anna exclaims, and Dean's crew whoops in excitement.

“Seriously,” Dean groans miserably, “why do I even bother pretending I have any control here?” The only person who gives him any acknowledgment is Cas, who simply shoots him a sympathetic look.

* * *

 

As soon as they infiltrate the yacht, Cas's team scatters. Dean guesses they have a plan, but he has no clue. He's just ready to get the damn loot and be done with the whole thing.

“Dean, Charlie, can you hear?” Jo's voice crackles through his earpiece.

“Loud and clear,” Charlie chirps at a whisper.

“I can hear you, Jo,” Dean responds.

“Great,” Jo says, all matter-of-fact and business. “Dean, you need to start making your way to the servant's corridors, specifically, you need to get to the one behind the kitchen.”

“I know where I'm headed, Jo,” Dean snips. “I came up with the plan, remember.”

Jo completely disregards Dean's comment and continues, “Charlie, if you take a left at the next hallways and take the second door on the right, that'll take you to an override console. You'll need to hack the door to get in, of course.”

“Of course,” Charlie says, duh echoing in her tone. “Who do you think you're talking to?”

Still continuing as though she works with people who have any idea how to be professional, Jo says, “Ash is sitting right here next to me, ready to help you with the system overrides once you get in. Now get going you guys.”

Dean and Charlie head their separate ways.

* * *

 

It's a huge ship, sizable enough to make any job difficult. However, it's an old model, and no matter how well kept up it is or how many times it's been refurbished, there's one thing that all these old ships seem to have in common.

Hannah hoists herself up into the ducts and replaces the vent cover. The space is cramped, but she has to hurry, their plan can't really be set into action until she's in place. Mission control, that's Hannah. It's a job she almost wishes Anna had taken because this part requires a level of stealth that is not Hannah's forte. Unfortunately, Anna can do things no one else from their team can, so Hannah wound up with the job.

She places each limb carefully as she crawls through the ventilation system because while she needs to be fast, she also needs to be silent. These old shafts echo something awful, and while it's that echo they’re counting on to make this mission a success, it's also something she needs to be aware of lest they get caught. Finally, she reaches the center of the ship. She takes out her stethoscope, priming it against the wall, and then settles in for the wait.

* * *

 

Charlie finds the door with minimal trouble, and getting inside is a breeze. The security system on the door is cracked pretty much as soon as she plugs her hand-held into it. She slides into the room without a soul any the wiser. Immediately she's going down a flight of stairs, the way lit only by the dim lights placed on either side every four feet.

When she reaches the bottom, it's to find another door, this one thick and with a manual lock. She pulls out the lock-picks Dean lent her and sets to work. It takes her a little longer to jimmy this one open than the last did, seeing as she's always been much more adept at technology than the old school approach. Finally, with a quiet click, the door is open. She pushes the door slowly, peeking in first to check for any unwanted company. Seeing the coast clear, she slides in and leaves the door cracked behind her, not trusting the lock now that she's messed with it. The last thing she wants is to get stuck because she busted up the door.

Pressing on her earpiece, she says, “Jo, I'm in the generator room.”

Static crackles for a moment before Jo's voice comes through. “Great. Do you see the panel on the far right wall.”

Charlie has to step around a few of the larger pieces of machinery before she finally spots it. “Yep.”

“Set the bug, and Ash will start the code. Dean, you hear that? We're about to get the way open for you. Be ready to get moving.”

* * *

 

Anna takes her own journey through the ventilation system, dropping silently out and onto her feet in the control room. There's only one man at the desk, watching the screens as they flick back and forth between all the security cameras around the ship. Doesn't seem like they've caught on to intruders yet.

Anna creeps up behind him, and before he ever even notices she's there, she has him in a sleeper hold. He struggles for a moment before slumping over, out cold. Gingerly, she guides his body to the floor and slides to stand in front of the seat the guard had just been occupying.

She tabs through the camera feeds. She watches as Michael emerges from a blind spot, clad in a security uniform. She catches sight of Charlie in the generator room.

“Girl's lucky I got here when I did,” Anna mutters under her breath.

She sees Dean, traipsing through the servant's corridors, probably thinking that he's being stealthy. There's no sign of Hannah; exactly how it should be. Finally, she finds the crux of the whole plan. There's Cas, cuffed and being led to the hold.

Everyone is in place.

Anna heads to the far wall and raps on it, creating a hollow echo.

* * *

 

Dean stops for a moment, straining his ears. What's that noise?

There's a rhythmic sort of tap-tap-tapping that sounds as though it's coming from the walls. It's hard to say just what it might be, though. Models this old make all sorts of racket, no matter how much anyone seems to try and update them. There's no time to ponder it, though. Dean needs to be on his way before he gets caught.

“Who are you!?” a female voice demands, scandalized and frightened.

“Shit!” Dean curses under his breath.

Before he can turn around to do anything with his witness, she screaming for security at the top of her lungs. Thinking it better not to stick around, Dean tears off in the opposite direction, veering off his initial course and down a different side hall.

Just as he thinks he is in the clear, he manages to run headlong into something incredibly solid and fall flat on his ass. Scratch that, he thinks, looking up. It's more like someone incredibly solid. A stone-faced security guard towers over him.

“Well this is just fucking great,” Dean grouches. He's really starting to wish Cas's team hadn't been so fucking stubborn and at least worn the earpieces so someone could reach them.

* * *

 

A hollow tapping echoes through the walls. The security guard beside Michael glances around. "The hell was that?"

Michael shrugs noncommittally. "Probably just some creaky pipes. You know how these old models are."

It seems to put the other man at ease. "Yeah, you're right. Thing’s been making all kinds of creaks and pops lately. May be time she get a tune up."

"Or a new ship," Michael comments off-hand.

The other guard laughs, like it's some great joke. "Man, you're new, but I'll tell ya, you ain't wrong. Old guy that owns it would never go for it though. It's a 'family heirloom' or some shit."

Michael smirks lazily. "Sounds about right for these types. But hey, I gotta take a piss, cover for me for a bit?"

The guard waves him off. "No problem, man. Take your time."

With a nod, Michael says, "Thanks," and then ambles from the post. After he turns a corner, his stride becomes purposeful, heading for the security hold, pocket drill burning a hole against his leg.

That's the problem with ships this size owned by arrogant fat cats, he thinks. Staffing never seems to be done directly, always contracting out through other companies. The people aboard this ship see so many new faces that someone can slide right into the part without notice, if they so wished. Pleased grin on his face, shadowed by the brim of his uniform hat, Michael thanks the stars for abysmal security practices.

* * *

 

Castiel glances up at the heavy sound of boots on metal. More than one set of footfalls is easily recognizable. Just what he needs, someone to be checking in on him when the signal could be coming at any moment. It comes as a great surprise when Dean stumbles in, followed by a burly guard at his back.

"Found your buddy," the guard announces, smug and obviously feeling very pleased with himself. The man uncuffs Dean, but before the pirate can retaliate, he's thrown into the cell with Cas. "You guys might have considered a different occupation than thieving. You're not very good at it." He crows over his own joke before turning and leaving them.

Dean stares down at Castiel where he sits on the floor. Castiel returns the gaze impassively, despite the warmth tickling at the back of his neck at the verdant stare. Finally, Dean flops down on the floor beside Castiel with a huff.

"Can't believe they caught you, too. Some pirate captains we are, huh?" Dean shoots him a smile, trying to find some form of amusement in the situation, even if it's through self-depreciation.

Castiel tilts his head, regarding Dean curiously, openly, wondering at the man before him. Tact never having been his strong suit, he says, "I'm meant to be here."

The comment takes Dean aback. "Huh?"

"It's part of our plan," he explains at a whisper. "There's a back way to the vault through here, free of cameras. "

Dean stares at him incredulously. "Dude, we spent hours last night looking through that schematic. Not once did I see a way from the jail to the vault."

"You simply weren't thinking outside of the box." Castiel glances discretely at the ceiling, where a vent is bolted in.

Dean follows the gaze and then does a double take between it and Castiel. "You're joking. How the hell are we even - " Castiel holds up a hand, forestalling his questions.

"There are cameras here," he reminds softly.

Dean stares at him, dumbstruck, a moment longer before settling back against the wall, arms crossed against his chest and brooding. Castiel can't help thinking he looks a bit like a petulant child, pouting at being bested. If Castiel is honest, which he finds he rarely is nowadays, the display reminds him a little of Meg. She never much cared being outdone. Quickly, Castiel brushes the thought away, filing it away into the recesses of his mind earmarked Dangerous Territory, where all his other denied thoughts seem to wind up.

Dean is not Meg, after all, and there is no reason to correlate the two. There is and can never be any comparison. Castiel settles back into waiting, pointedly ignoring the itch forming under his skin and the way breathing has become just the tiniest bit harder.

Castiel can feel the restless energy radiating off Dean, the man fidgeting and sighing into the silence every few minutes. The only around them is the mechanical whirring of the ship, tone so monotonous that Castiel almost drifts off, lulled into comfort by the body heat besides him. Until last night, he'd forgotten what security a sleeping body beside him can bring.

He starts awake and alert at a soft rapping echoing through the walls. It shouldn't be long now.

Beside him, Dean grouses, "What the hell is that noise?" When Castiel doesn't answer him, he stiffens, turning to stare in amazement at the other pirate. "It's code, isn't it? It's how you guys have been communicating!"

Castiel doesn't answer him, but he does smile serenely as he stands and brushes the dust from himself.

An indistinct thud travels through the thick door, followed shortly by a series of clicking sounds. Michael walks in, and Castiel glances at the camera posted up in the corner of the room. Michael takes note and gives him a thumbs up. Anna has successfully looped the feed, then. When the door slides shut behind him, Michael finally removes his hat and walks quickly towards them, pulling the small drill out of his pocket. He spares a glance Dean, eyebrow raised. Castiel shakes his head, smiling conspiratorially. Michael hands over the drill to Cas, gives one final nod of encouragement, and then leaves.

Quickly, Castiel scales the bars of the cell and begins taking out the screws, the buzz of the drill melting into the natural sounds of the ship. With deft fingers, he keeps it from falling, slowly lowering it down. Dean catches on and takes it from him. Castiel hoists himself up through the hole and the pokes his head down the look at Dean.

"Are you coming?" he asks.

Dean blinks, taking a moment to gather his bearings, and the nods. "Yeah, guess so. Better than waiting around in here."

Castiel smiles at him, the expression truly pleased, and then holds down a hand to give Dean assistance in lifting himself up through the vent. Once they're both up in the tiny, cramped space, Castiel whispers, "We have to be careful. As you've already noticed, sound travels very well through here. We don't need to be tipping anyone off here at the end." Dean nods his understanding.

Castiel raps out one last message against the metal before they head on, struggling through the confined spaces like constrictor snakes through drain pipes, foreign and too large, but making it all the same.

As soon as they cut a corner, Castiel can see light peeking up through the ducts, about ten feet ahead. He holds up a hand to let Dean know they're almost there. Glancing down through the vent, he's able to see that the coast is clear. He tests the grate and happily notes that it isn't bolted in. Quiet as he can, he pushes it out, holding on so that it doesn't clatter to the floor below. Angling it, he pulls it up into the vent with them and places it across the hole. He slides out and lands on his feet, moving quickly out of the way so that Dean can do the same.

It only takes a cursory glances around the room to spot what they’re looking for. The thing is old, stone etched with words in a long dead language. It sits under a spotlight, looking as though it belongs in a museum. It's with a bit of sadness that Castiel thinks on how things hardly make it into museums nowadays, falling instead into the hands of wealthy collectors at the work of pirates like himself.

In sync with Castiel taking his first step, the vault door opens, and though it can take no more than a few seconds, Castiel sees it in slow motion as the old owner of the ship appears, followed by a security guard. Castiel and the man make eye contact, and then everything springs back into proper speed, the man shouting, "Thieves! Get them!"

"Dean, get the tablet!" Castiel instructs, rushing in to grapple with the security guard. It's a quick scuffle because though the man is large and muscular, Castiel has had experience wrangling things much larger and heavier.

Keeping his center of gravity low, he topples the guard over, quickly pivoting to grab the man's head and slam it into the ground, rendering him unconscious. Out of the corner of his eyes, Castiel can see the old man set to make a run for it, and so he whips out the drill, shouting, "Don't move!" It takes too long for the man to realize it isn't a weapon that's pointed at him, and before he can do anything else, Castiel has him in a headlock from behind. The man freezes, fearing for his life.

"Dean, you have what we came for?" Castiel calls out into the room.

He's rewarded with a shaky response of, "Y-uh, yeah."

Castiel addresses the man, "Lucky for you I need both hands." He applies pressure to the man's windpipe, quickly incapacitating him. Gently, Castiel guides the limp body to the ground. He walks to a bare spot on the wall and raps out one last code before turning to Dean. "Time for us to go."

Dean nods, slightly shell-shocked and more than a little dazed, before he remembers to put his earpiece back in. He'd stashed it in a hidden pocket of his clothes before he'd been caught. When he finally reactivates it, it's to Jo calling his name in a panicky voice.

"Jo, Jo, it's fine, I'm okay. We've got the treasure and are about to head back to the rendezvous spot. Charlie, you hear me? Good. Head on back." He nods at Castiel. "Let's go."

* * *

 

Once everyone is back on board, Jo jets them out of there, putting as much space between the luxury liner and them as is possible. Meanwhile, Dean regales everyone with tales of what happened, while Castiel remains by his side, smiling quietly.

When he finishes his story, Charlie is the first to speak, saying, "So that's thrilling and all, but I think we're forgetting the most important question here. Who won?"

Everyone looks expectantly at the two captains, who look to each other, mulling it over. Castiel is the one who faces them and says, "I think it can be called a tie."

Charlie groans miserably. "That's so lame!"

Ash places a placating hand on her shoulder. "Still a job well done," he offers. "I say we break out the good stuff and all drink to that."

"I second that motion," Michael agrees.

Anna chimes in, "Thirded!"

"Then off to the galley!" Charlie announces, grabbing Hannah's hand as she passes by and dragging the older woman along with her.

"No one calls it that," Jo calls after her, but there's no fire in it.

Dean comes up behind her and places a hand on her shoulder. "Why don't you go join them? I can handle this."

She looks up at him, surprised, and asks, "Are you sure?

"Hell yeah, I'm sure," he blusters with a grin. "Go revel, for once. Let me worry about the hard stuff."

Jo shoots him a grateful look before shooting up out of her seat and running off after everyone else.

Castiel and Dean are the only ones who remain in the cockpit.

"That was kind of you," Castiel compliments, still standing in the same spot he'd been in the whole way through Dean's explanation.

Sliding into the pilot seat, Dean shrugs as his smile softens. "She doesn't take near enough breaks. Besides, driving Baby is my way to unwind."

Castiel watches him with no small amount of wonder, marveling at his dedication to his crew. His fingers feel twitchy, and he takes to flexing them against the legs of his pants, concentrating on the feel of the fabric.

Dean turns back to look at him, over-bright eyes looking him up and down. "You not gonna join them?" he asks.

Castiel shakes his head, speech somehow evading him.

Dean purses his lips in thought before offering, "Wanna hang out with me then?"

Castiel's heart flutters in his chest, a caged bird racketing for freedom, and he thinks he would like that, to spend more time sitting beside Dean, just soaking in his presence. Except he remembers blood on his hands and cold skin against his own and brown eyes staring sightlessly ahead, and his breath catches in his throat, choking on pain and panic and remorse.

He shakes his head. "I think I'll retire to my room for the night." He somehow keeps his voice steady.

Dean's face falls for a moment before he plasters his carefree veneer back up. "Yeah, sure, that's fine. Get some rest, buddy." His disappointment is still audible.

Dean is ill-adept at keeping his emotions at bay, and Castiel fears what that may result in.

* * *

 

It's hours later when Dean finally sets the ship to auto-pilot and gets up to head to bed. The time alone had given him space to think, and mostly, he thought of Castiel. If anyone had told him, even just a few months ago, that he'd even just be working together with Castiel, The Wrath of God, he'd have been torn between laughing at the impossibility and trying not to go all stupid and starstruck. Now, he finds himself not only working with the man, but hovering over the precipice of something that both terrifies and exhilarates him all at once.

Long as the day has been, the memory of Castiel in his arms the night before has stayed vivid in his mind all day. There had been an intimacy to it all that Dean had never before experienced, and where once he thought he would want to run away at it, he finds now that simply isn't true. Instead, he wants to revel in it, to go to sleep every night with the two of them tangled together. He wants other things, too, wants more than just shared breaths and beds, but he wants none of those things near as much as just the continued closeness.

He wants to know everything about Castiel, every hitched breath, every tear shed, every smile shared, and it's such an overwhelming realization that it stops him in his tracks. He wants to unravel Castiel until he's laid bare for Dean to gaze upon, and in turn, Dean wants to help heal the pain that seems to plague him. Dean wants everything Castiel has to give, and he wants to give everything of himself in return.

Without a second thought to what he's doing, Dean turns around, backtracking down the hall, forgetting about his room and his bed. There are better places to be, he thinks. It isn't until he's standing in front of the door that Dean even thinks to consider that Castiel may be asleep, or perhaps not even there at all. He won't let himself second guess this though. Resolve steeled, he knocks on the door.

He's never felt more relieved to hear the words, "Come in."

When he walks in, Castiel stares at him with wide, unfathomable eyes, the blues of them reflecting the golden gleam of the dim lights. He stands from his bed in a smooth motion, goes to step forward, but then seems to think better of it. "Dean, is everything alright?"

Dean wants to say that no, everything is not alright. He wants to say that Castiel has come into his life and flipped it upside down in the best of ways, that he thinks they're on the verge of something huge, something great, and while that should scare him, it doesn't, which only serves to scare him more. He wants to say that Castiel has reached into the very fabric of his being and woven it all into something new, something different, something pointedly marked and his. Instead, he say, "We work well together."

Castiel tilts his head, watching Dean with no small amount of confusion. Slowly, uncertainly, he agrees, "We do," with a slight nod of his head.

Dean takes a deep breath, filling his lungs until he can't anymore, and then exhales. He runs a hand through his hair, muttering out, "Damn it, Cas, I'm not any good with words."

Castiel steps forward, finally, and reaches for him, wrapping a calloused hand around Dean's wrist. "Dean, are you sure you're okay?" he asks, concern heavy and undiluted.

Dean meets his eyes, and in them he sees freedom and possibilities, but beyond all the great things there, he also sees loneliness, finding himself uncertain as to if it belongs to Castiel or if it's his own reflected back at him. He's so damn tired of feeling lonely.

"Never better," he murmurs, and then he's kissing Castiel, a chaste brush of lips that lights a fire in his chest and just feels right.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anna looks to him, blue eyes deep and watery like the pictures he's seen of the ripple pools on Ariel. “He may never be ready,” she says, her sadness running so deep it's almost palpable.
> 
> He squeezes her hand back, yet again asserting, “I'll give him time.”

The kiss takes Castiel off guard, startling him into compliance. His eyes flutter for a moment, almost falling shut as he begins to lose himself to the feel of Dean's mouth against his, of the rough scrape of stubble against his own unshaven face. It feels nice, and warm, and for just that moment, Castiel thinks he may never want it to end. Then he remembers. He remembers with sharp and sudden clarity what happened to the last person he was with like this, and he pushes away, violently enough to startle them both.

He’s shaking, unable to look Dean in the face, unable to look at him at all.

"Shit! Cas, I'm sorry." Dean sounds panicked, reaching a hand out to Castiel, who flinches away.

Castiel shakes his head, a soft, pleading, side-to-side motion. "Dean, please, I can't."

Dean takes a step back as though the words are a physical blow. He stares at Castiel, lost at first, before the shame and hurt bubble up like quicksilver. In a slow, deliberate motion, he lowers the hand he'd used to reach out to Cas, drawing in on himself. "I see," he says quietly, voice hollow.

"Dean, please, you don't understand," Castiel begs, tears pricking his eyes.

"Oh, I understand plenty. It's fine, I get it, I misread the signs. Sorry, won't happen again." Dean says the words coldly, spitting out the final sentence as though trying to rid himself of the lingering feel of Castiel's lip against his. He turns and he leaves before Castiel can say another word, leaving him alone and aching.

* * *

 

"Charlie, stop," Hannah giggles, pushing ineffectually against the younger woman's hands.

"But do you reeeeaaaally want me to stop?" Charlie teases, hands under Hannah's shirt, her fingers tripping up Hannah's ribs and around to her back.

Hannah continues laughing, struggling without conviction. "Yes, I do; it tickles."

"Then I'll stop tickling," Charlie promises in a sultry simper, dragging her nails sensually down Hannah's spine.

Hannah lets out a petite gasp, arching into Charlie who begins mouthing at her neck. Hannah slides her hands up under Charlie's shirt, dipping fingers into her bra and pinching a nipple, earning her a pleased groan against her neck.

"So gonna rock your world," Charlie promises against Hannah's skin as she unhooks the other woman's bra. Just as Charlie is sliding her hands around to cup Hannah's breasts, a knock sounds at the door.

"Don't answer it," Charlie instructs, hiking up Hannah's shirt and dipping her head to wrap her mouth around a nipple.

"Hannah, are you awake?" Castiel whispers from the other side.

Hannah's attention diverts to the door, and Charlie groans miserably, "Seriously?"

With a smile, Hannah lifts Charlie's face and presses a chaste kiss against her lips. When she pulls away, she says, "This will only take a moment. Don't think I'm not holding you to that promise you made to 'rock my world.'" Then she stands, pulling her bra off completely and tossing it to a dark corner of the room.

Hannah opens the door, asking, "Castiel, what is -" The words freeze in her throat when she notices how his eyes are red-rimmed and watery. Protective urges roaring up inside her, she demands, "What happened?"

Castiel refuses to meet her eyes as he says, "Dean kissed me."

"Dean what!?" Charlie shouts from inside the room.

Castiel's attention shoots up and over Hannah's shoulder, where he can just make out Charlie in the darkness of the room. Color rising in his cheeks, he quickly apologizes, "I'm sorry, I'm interrupting. I should go."

Fast as lightning, Hannah's hand shoots out and grabs hold of his arm. "Stay," she insists. "We don't mind." She turns to address Charlie. "Right?"

Charlie shakes her head emphatically. "Don't mind at all. I can rock your world any old day; this is much more important."

* * *

 

Unable to tolerate stewing in the silence of his own room, Dean heads back to the cockpit, sitting at the control panel and doing a full clean up of all the systems. He knows full well that Charlie and Jo will want to skin him alive for messing with what they deem their computer, but Dean finds he doesn't really give a shit. He's the captain of this ship after all, a card he rarely ever plays in earnest. Let them rave, he thinks; he'll remind them of the chain of command if he has too.

The whole process takes a much shorter amount of time than Dean had initially anticipated, and it leaves him still feeling hurt and embarrassed and shamed. Still needing to burn off some energy, he heads down to the cargo hold, where they've repurposed a corner of it as a (rarely used) gym. They'd done the project with wholly good intentions, but, as it turns out, no one in their crew is particularly of the gym-faring variety.

It's for this very reason that finding the small space already occupied leaves Dean floored. Anna is already there, flaming hair pulled up off her neck and clearly sweating as she lays into a poor, unsuspecting punching bag.

Without pausing her workout, she huffs, "You just going to stand there?"

Dean blinks dumbly for a moment before snapping back to himself. "Yeah, sorry, just not used to seeing anyone here."

This time, Anna does stop, stilling the swaying of the punching bag with her hands before using her shirt to wipe the sweat from her brow. Dean catches a glimpse of the concave of her belly, fit and toned. "I figured from all the dust down here no one used it very much." She's wearing a teasing smile that somehow gives Dean the feeling he's being tested.

He self-consciously scratches at the back of his neck. "Yeah, we aren't exactly a group of 'workout' types of people."

Rolling her shoulders, Anna asks, "So what brings you down here now?" Her voice holds more than mere polite courtesy or even mild curiosity. No, this is an interrogation, one that Dean would probably be fully unaware of if not for knowing what it was Anna once did.

Dean sets his mouth in a grim line, refusing to answer her, even as she continues to watch him in a cross between amusement and challenge. Silence ticks by between them, reminding Dean of his agitation, which causes a tightening in his muscles. Anna's expression never changes, remaining smooth and revealing nothing of just what it is she's thinking. The vast, unreadable depth of her blue eyes hits too close to home, reminds him too much of Castiel, to offer anything beyond further aggravation. He'd rather stew in his room or drink until he passes out than stand here with the unrelenting spy.

As he turns, prepared to leave without a word, Anna's voice stops him. "Spar with me," she says.

Dean turns back to her, raising an eyebrow dubiously. "What?"

Her expression has softened, though Dean has no way of knowing if it's in honest sentiment or calculated cunning. "Spar with me," she repeats. "It will help burn off some of the hurt buzzing through your bones."

Dean narrows his eyes at her. "Thanks for the sympathy," he says, sounding not the least bit thankful, "but I don't want your pity."

She shrugs casually, bouncing minutely on the balls of her feet, loosening and priming her muscles and joints. "No sympathy here. Honestly, it's selfishness, if anything. I rarely get to spar with anyone outside of a real fight, and I don't want to get rusty."

"What about Michael?" Dean challenges.

Anna looks at him as though he's insane. "Seriously? Have you seen my husband? I mean, I'm no slouch, but even I can't stand up against a wall of solid muscle, no matter how fast I might be."

She sounds so genuine that it throws Dean for a moment, the shock causing something in his body to uncoil just the slightest. He finds himself agreeing and facing honest-to-god glee in Anna's face.

"Count of three, then?" she asks, the bounce in her feet amping up.

Dean nods. "Count of three," he says, squaring his shoulders and preparing for a fight.

* * *

 

Castiel feels guilt tinged with embarrassment crawling up his insides as he sits on the the bed under the combined gaze of Hannah and Charlie. He's interrupted them and he feels awful about it. He chances a glance at them, noting how utterly debauched they both look, hair and clothes mussed while they sit close enough to touch, hands and arms brushing together with each breath. There's a warmth in his chest at knowing Hannah is moving on with her life, finding happiness with someone once again, and despite that warmth, that happiness he feels at the knowledge, it also serves to exacerbate the wretchedness he feels. Castiel wants to have that happiness again as well. He could have it, too, if only...

The thought is cut short when Charlie speaks, prompting him with, "So... Dean kissed you, huh?"

He nods.

"And... you didn't like it?" she ventures.

Castiel shakes his head vehemently. "No, that's not - It's not..." He trails off, words failing him.

"You feel guilty," Hannah voices for him. He can't meet her eyes as he nods again.

Charlie furrows her brow, confused. "Guilty? What for?"

"For something which he should not," Hannah says, unrelenting steel in her voice. Castiel is sure that if he could find it in him to return her gaze, he'd find it there, as well.

"You know that explains nothing, don't you?" Charlie chirps.

Hannah reaches out a hand, gently placing it on his arm. "I know I cannot make you see it, though I wish I could, but it has never been your fault. None of us saw his betrayal coming, so you need to stop punishing yourself."

Though he feels unable to respond in anyway that will please her, Castiel forces himself to look up at her, to feel the full brunt of her stare. It rubs against the raw places inside him and makes them ache. On some level, he knows she's right, knows only he can forgive himself, that in the eyes of everyone else, there has never been anything to forgive, but it's something he's never been able to bring himself to do.

He looks between the two women again, and offers Hannah a weak, but no less genuine, smile. "I'm happy for you," he says softly.

"You could have this, too," she reminds him.

He hangs his head, unable to meet her eyes as he admits, "I'm so afraid, Hannah."

She squeezes his arm in reassurance. I'm here for you, it says, and Castiel finds himself grateful for her continued friendship, even after all that transpired between them and the years apart.

* * *

 

Dean and Anna lay side-by-side on the matted floor of the gym, huffing and puffing and covered in sweat.

"You're good," Anna compliments between great lungfuls of air.

Dean finds himself preening under the compliment.

Anna lifts her legs and throws her body weight forward, rocking up into a sitting position. She twists at the waist to look down at Dean, arm resting on her raised knee. "So do you want to talk about it now?"

The match has drained the anger from him, leaving him with only the hollow ache of rejection, and he finds that, yes, he actually does want to talk about it. "I kissed Cas," he admits, and he feels no better for the revelation.

Anna makes no move of surprise or disbelief; she simply continues to watch him patiently.

"He didn't take it too well," Dean continues at her silence. He laughs self-deprecatingly. "Guess I was just seeing what I wanted to see between us."

Anna watches him a moment more, blank faced, before turning her attention to the far wall. Finally, she says softly, “I don't think that's it.” Before Dean can say anything, she's speaking again with a weight to her words that makes Dean listen. “He cares about you, Dean. I can see it in his face when you're around. You make him smile.” She looks down at him sadly. “I never thought I'd see that again.”

Anxiety and confusion churn in Dean's gut, making him feel unpleasantly jittery again. He meets Anna's eyes for little more than a second before he's staring up at the ceiling, very pointedly avoiding her blue gaze. “Ya think?” he chokes out.

Anna nods. “I know it.”

Dean flexes his fingers against his stomach, bunching the fabric of his shirt. Taking a steadying breath, he manages to get out little more than, “Then why...”

Anna's hand closes over his; it's surprisingly soft. He looks to her as she squeezes his hand reassuringly, wearing a sad smile. “He's afraid, Dean. What happened with Meg...” She turns away, eyes downcast. “He blames himself, you know.”

Dean sits up, watching the the waif of a woman before him. Since coming on his ship, she'd seemed nothing but strong and confident, but here, before him like this, she seems so very frail and tired. It's the first time it truly hits Dean that something awful happened to this group of people, something that broke them and sent them skittering off to different corners of the system. “I'll give him time,” he promises.

Anna looks to him, blue eyes deep and watery like the pictures he's seen of the ripple pools on Ariel. “He may never be ready,” she says, her sadness running so deep it's almost palpable.

He squeezes her hand back, yet again asserting, “I'll give him time.”

Anna stares him down a moment more, before nodding, grief giving way to gratitude. “Thank you,” she whispers back softly.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It's funny.” 
> 
> “And what, exactly, is that?”
> 
> “How quickly you can go from crying to me about your man crush to making a move on said man crush.”

According to the history books, Titan's as close to the Earth of old as anyone is likely to get, what with it's own natural weather cycle that apparently closely mimics that of what Earth had. All it took to terraform was a couple of chemical introductions to the satellite's atmosphere, and then it was liveable. Cold as balls, but liveable.

Titan hosts old and new money alike, indiscriminate of who you are so long as you're rolling in the stuff (though all the inhabitants might not be as open-minded, the old money tending to keep to one side of the satellite, while the new stays to the other). It's the crown gem of the system, ice caps glittering like the diamonds in which its inhabitants like the shroud themselves, while the sky maintains a constant golden hue. No matter how you look at it, it's a planet of opulence, which, of course, means it only makes sense that this is where Dean is meeting their buyer.

As the Impala approaches the port, boasted as the largest in this system and all neighboring ones, Dean calls for a crew-wide meeting. Castiel is conspicuously absent.

"Charlie and I will be going down to meet the buyer, rest of you? I don't care what you do so long as I don't have to bail your asses out of jail," Dean announces.

"So everyone be sure to have someone besides our illustrious captain here on speed dial should you find yourself arrested," Charlie interrupts, grinning impishly.

Dean shoots her an unamused look before continuing, "We'll all meet at The Roadhouse tonight to celebrate a job well done. If any of you don't know it," his eyes dart to the present members of Castiel's crew, "you can't miss it."

Several other details are hashed out amongst them, followed by idle chit chat and a couple of people breaking off to prepare for landing as Jo docks the ship.

* * *

 

“So...” Charlie says as they're waiting far outside the city on their contact, drawing out the word in a way that insinuates she knows something.

Dean side-eyes her. “'So' what?”

“It's funny,” she says, idly examining her nails, which is a sure tell that there's something sinister going through that huge brain of hers, considering she's probably the least concerned with her nails out of everyone he's ever met.

Humoring her, he asks, “And what, exactly, is that?”

Without missing a beat, she responds, “How quickly you can go from crying to me about your man crush to making a move on said man crush.”

The comment wrong-foots him, so much so that he just stares silently at her, mouth gaping open.

Charlie shoots him an appraising look, eyes traveling up and down once before she says, “You know, I hear they have some nasty flying bugs on this satellite.” He immediately clamps his mouth shut.

“How do you – ?” he sputters, and then with sudden clarity realizes, “Hannah.”

Charlie shakes her head and wags her finger. “Close, but no cigar.”

“Then how?” He doesn't think Anna would have told her; he's fairly certain they aren't that close. Unless Anna was worried about him and felt Charlie was the best person to tell? But no, she doesn't strike Dean as the type.

“Heard it straight from the horse's mouth,” Charlie clarifies.

Dean's eyebrows shoot up. That makes even less sense!

Charlie shoots him a soft look, one that's almost pitying, and it hurts Dean all over again. He isn't used to these looks, doesn't ever want to be used to them, but he had to go and fall for the most emotionally unavailable guy in all of the system, didn't he? In which case, he figures he better learn to accept them.

“I was with Hannah in her room last night when he came to talk to her,” Charlie admits.

Dean nods. “That makes sense.”

“You know,” she ventures cautiously, treading the waters of what she's about to say carefully, “he seemed really upset.” Before Dean can scoff at her, say he's aware of that, thank you very much Second in Command Obvious, she continues, “Not like he was upset about what happened, but more...” She trails off for a moment to mull over her words. “But more like he was upset that he rejected you.”

The verbiage sends a jolt of pain through his chest.“Thanks, Charlie, really know how to make a guy feel better,” he grumbles.

“Not like that, Captain Dramatic!” Charlie scolds, rolling her eyes.

This, at least, earns a snort of laughter from Dean, which has Charlie smiling.

Silence falls between them, the only sound that of the wind whipping across the dunes.

Dean glances up at the clouds passing overhead. “Guy better hurry up. Looks like a storm is coming.”

Charlie places her hand on top of his, but he doesn't take his eyes off the sky. “Give him time, Dean,” she whispers.

He closes his eyes, remembering his discussion last night with Anna, her admission that she isn't sure Cas will ever be ready, and he remembers his promise despite it. A small, honest smile lifts the corners of his mouth, and he turns his hand to thread his fingers with Charlie's, squeezing her hand in reassurance. “That's the plan,” he says.

* * *

 

Anna finds Hannah in the kitchen, nursing a cup of tea. “Surprised to see you haven't fled ship to buy the good stuff,” she says in a friendly manner. “Weren't you always going on about how Titanian teas are the best in all the galaxy? Imports can't even touch them, is what you'd say.”

Hannah gives a weak shrug of her shoulders. “I stand behind that, but...”

“But Castiel,” Anna finishes for her.

Hannah nods solemnly. “It doesn't seem right to just leave when he's like this.”

Anna pours a cup of tea for herself before sliding into the seat next to Hannah. “Let him stew in it,” she says flippantly.

Hannah turns to stare at her, aghast. “How can you say that?”

Anna's thumb rubs back and forth, back and forth, across the lip of her mug. “Way I see it, he needs to figure it out on his own. Not a damn thing any of us say is going to get through to him. It didn't back then, and it sure as hell won't now.”

Hannah scrunches her forehead up, displeased with what Anna is saying but unable to refute it. She goes back to staring into her quickly cooling tea. Soon it will be too tepid to be enjoyable. “How do you know about it?” she asks.

Anna takes a sip from her mug, winces at the heat, and then takes another sip. Hannah watches it all out of the corner of her eye, wondering if such perseverance for a hot beverage is something left over from Anna's military days or simply a byproduct of her own stubborn nature.

“Dean came into the gym last night, looking to blow off some steam,” Anna explains. “We sparred and then he got to talking.”

The amused snort is out of Hannah before she can stop it.

Anna looks at her with a raised eyebrow. “Something funny?” she challenges. Though amusement is sparkling in her eyes, too.

Hannah shakes her head primly. “No, no, sorry. It's only that it's hard to think of you as the type of person people can confide in. You don't exactly have one of those faces.” She shoots Anna a smile.

Donning mock-offense, Anna retorts, “I was a spy. We're pretty good at keeping secrets.”

“But that makes you pseudo-therapists?” Hannah challenges.

At this Anna actually does look annoyed. “More than you'd think.”

They share a moment of companionable silence, sipping at their tea like dignified ladies. It reminds Hannah strongly of the formal tea services she'd attended as a child, and she wonders briefly if Anna ever led a life like that, or if she simply is able to slide into any role due to her specialization at infiltration. Life before the Ravager is a touchy subject for Anna and Michael, and while Hannah can certainly understand that, it doesn't make her wish any less that she had a little more insight into her friends' backgrounds. Or perhaps that's just Hannah growing up in her own way to be a catty gossip like her mother. High society life seems to be a cloak she's never quite thrown off.

“Do you think they'll be okay?” Hannah asks after finally giving up on her tea. It has gone cold, the leaves sticking out amongst the liquid, and it is far past offering any kind of comfort.

Anna heaves a heavy sigh. “Wish I could say.” She closes her eyes for a moment, appearing almost pained by the unknown. “That Dean though, he's gone on the guy, you know?”

Hannah nods. “I had noticed when I first met him. The eyes he watches Castiel with...”

Anna smirks without humor. “Reminds you of the way Cas watched Meg, right?”

Hannah nods, sad little smile on her face and a far away look in her eyes.

Anna watches her for a moment, admiring the faraway look in the other woman's eyes. “You used to look at her the same way, you know. Like she hung all the stars in the sky, just for you.”

Hannah's smile widens at that, warm and happy at the memories. “It always felt like she did. There was a whole, wide universe out there that I never thought I would see beyond the windows of Mother's big house. Then she came along and she showed me all of it.”

It's comforting to watch Hannah speak about Meg in a way that Anna never thought the subject could be. Hannah has clung to the fondest of memories, keeping the woman in a warm place in her heart. There's such a stark difference between how she speaks about Meg and Castiel does; as in, Castiel doesn't. At least, not like this, not with loving remembrance. She wishes he could be in the same place as Hannah, truly she does, but she knows it may never happen. He blames himself far too much for what happened, and while they all know he shouldn't, none of them has ever been able to convince him otherwise.

“And now?” Anna prompts. “You and Charlie?”

Hannah is unable to keep the happy grin from her face. “Yes. Charlie and I.” She offers no more on the subject, and Anna pries no further.

Hannah slides smoothly from her seat and looks at Anna expectantly. “How about I show you the shopping district here? It's not as upscale as the one in my home city, but I remember it being stunning none-the-less, especially for an off-worlder such as you.”

Anna barks out a short laugh. “You just want the good tea.”

“Does the reason really matter?” Hannah asks confidently.

Anna shrugs. “Suppose not. Should we ask the menfolk to come along?”

With a shake of her head, Hannah says, “No, just us. Female bonding.”

With a huff of amusement, Anna stands from her seat, as well. “Sounds good by me. Lead the way, Miss Titan Native.”

* * *

 

“Oh Sam~”

The lilting voice jolts Sam awake from his fitful sleep, momentarily making him panic that he's in a burning building, listening to the dying screams of the love of his life. But there are no screams, only Ruby at his back, disgustedly muttering, “What the hell is he doing down here?”

Sam curls in on himself, pain and mourning and hatred churning in his gut, making tears prick his eyes. Stubbornly, he blinks them back, and focuses on the one feeling he can handle – remorse for Ruby having to see the man that has kept her imprisoned for the last ten years.

“I'm sorry. He's here for me,” he mutters, talking more to his knees than the woman just beyond the bars.

“No need to apologize to me, Samsquatch,” she promises, and he finds solace in the gentle silk of her voice. He doesn't understand the nickname she's given him, hasn't since she started calling him by it early on into their friendship, but he appreciates the sense of normalcy it gives him, no matter how small it may be. She's assured him if he knew anything about old Earth folklore, he'd know it fit him, and for no other reason than he needs to believe her in order to survive, he does.

“Ah, Ruby,” Crowley purrs, oil-slick, “already sinking your claws into our dear guest? Just remember he's above you, dear.” His eyes focus on Sam, who's still curled up but glaring at the man from beneath his arms. “Quite literally and figuratively.”

“Eat me, you ass,” she retorts.

Crowley quirks an amused eyebrow at her, assesses her, before shaking his head and saying, “No, I think not. I wouldn't even let Juliet eat the likes of scum like you. Too dirty for even her palette.”

Ruby glares, but can do little more from behind the walls of her cell. “The hell are you doing down here anyway? Don't you have cronies you can send to deal with the trash?” She spits the word out. It's not the worst name she's ever been called, but it's the one that hits too close to home for her to ever forget, the one that reminds her too much of her daddy back on Europa telling her she'll never amount to anything. She's never found out what happened to him after she left, but she hopes the plague that struck the moon all those year back killed him. She hopes he suffered.

Crowley smiles blithely at her, finding amusement in her attempts to retaliate anyway she can. It makes Ruby's blood boil.

“For the trash, yes,” he answers her, “but Sam, here, is special.” He watches Sam like a entomologist watches its prized Arielian honeyfly before sticking the needle through the bug. “Now Sam, I know you're still upset with me over what happened to darling Jessica,” Sam jerks violently, body taut and bowed in fury, “but I'm hoping what I'm about to tell you will make up for that unfortunate mishap.”

“Mishap –!” Sam starts, rising up to his full height.

Unperturbed by the outburst, Crowley continues, “Your brother will be here soon to see you, Sam.”

  
  



	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know, you aren't allowed to be jealous when you're the only one standing in the way of your own happiness.”
> 
> “I'm not jealous,” Castiel argues, even as he has to silently admit to himself that just maybe he is.
> 
> “You are jealous. And the thing is? There's no damn good reason for you to be that way. You could be up there with them if you'd stop wallowing in your own useless misery.”

The Roadhouse is a bar for pirates by pirates, and anyone who has spent any reasonable amount of time on Titan in the past twenty-five years knows exactly where it is and exactly who owns it – two retired pirates by the name of Bobby Singer and Ellen Harvelle. Rumor has it that there's now a third individual being groomed to take on the place once they're gone, but all anyone could really tell you about him is that he's a big, big, big, scary guy, and if you don't mess with Singer and Harvelle? Well, then you definitely don't mess with him.

To the general public, it's a rough and tumble sort of place, the kind that even rebellious teenagers don't dare enter. The bar serves a certain kind of clientele, and if you don't match what they're looking for? Well, then you keep your head down and your eyes to the ground as you pass it by.

To those more in the know, it's more like home than anything else. There's no in-fighting amongst the patrons, despite the stories some of the natives will be dying to tell the odd passerby, lest those patrons risk expulsion, and, worse yet, Ellen Harvelle herself. To the pirates who frequent the establishment, it's a place to unwind and feel welcomed in a universe where very few places are safe and even fewer people can be called “friend.”

“I remember hearing stories about this place as I was growing up,” Hannah says with a smile as they enter. “Mother warned me about the 'seedy sort' who go to places like this.”

“And I bet you always wanted to go, didn't you?” Michael teases with a grin.

Hannah grins – wicked, wide, and unabashed. “Sneaked in a few times on the arm of a tipsy pirate or two.”

Anna guffaws, bending over and slapping her thighs in mirth. Such a display draws little attention here, while Michael and Castiel simply smile and shake their heads.

The place is busy, packed to the rafters with people of all kinds, laughing and drinking and having a good time. Still, it doesn't take them long to find the other half of their party. Dean, Charlie, and Ash are sitting at the bar. Jo is rather conspicuously missing, but, seemingly in her place, is an attractive blonde with the kind of features that would make even Anna question her preference for men sitting beside Ash.

“Where's Jo?” Anna asks as they settle in with the group.

With an amused smirk, Dean says, “Trying to plead with her mom.”

“Her mom?” Hannah questions.

With a grin even cheekier than Dean's, Charlie counters, “Or flirting with her boyfriend.” She's laughing before the words ever fully leave her mouth, and Dean and Ash aren't far behind her.

“I feel like we've missed something,” Anna deadpans.

“Ignore them,” the woman beside Ash say, her voice like velvet and her accenting pinning her as from Ganymede. “I'm Bela, by the way, since these morons seem incapable of making proper introductions.” She holds out a hand in introduction, which they all take turns shaking

Having calmed himself, Ash provides, “Bela's an old friend.”

“Right,” Charlie teases, “an old friend.” Ash glares at her. Bela just continues to seem unamused by their antics and much more amused with her own existence.

Pushing Charlie away from where she's all but laying across his lap to talk to Ash, Dean says, “We were pretty surprised to see her as our contact for the relic we heisted.”

“Don't know why, though,” Charlie adds petulantly. “It's not like she hasn't always inserted herself right in the middle of all the best deals.”

“I simply go where the money is. You know that,” Bela says before taking a sip of her drink. Anyone can guess that the money it takes to keep her happy is substantial. When she sets her glass down, she once more settles her gaze on the cluster of Castiel, Michael, Anna, and Hannah. “You want a real surprise,” she purrs, “consider mine when I found out that Dean and his motley crew of misfits are traveling about and working with the most famous pirate crew of recent history. I never would have imagined his group to start running with anyone noteworthy.”

Castiel's face sets into a grim line as he says, “We're little more than, as you put it, a 'motley crew of misfits,' ourselves.”

Bela merely seems amused at his ire as she says, “Yes, but at least you're a crew of misfits people have heard of.” She punctuates the statement by taking another sip of her drink.

"People have heard of us," Dean argues.

"For more than just pissing off the big guy," Bela says smugly over the rim of her glass.

Dean huffs, and Castiel fights the urge to point out that technically that's what they're best known for as well. He gets the feeling he's not winning this argument with her.

It's about that time that they hear Jo's voice whining, "Mom!" as she storms out of the door situated behind the bar.

An older, stern looking woman follows hot on her heels, scolding, "Joanna Beth, don't you walk out on me in the middle of a conversation!"

A grizzled old man comes out after them, much more sedate and drying a glass. "Leave the girl be, Ellen," he drawls.

Ellen rounds on him next, growling, "You stay out of this Singer!"

He shrugs, grumbling to himself, “Don't know why I bother.”

Dean laughs. “You should know better than to get involved in a Harvelle battle of wills, Old Man.”

The man looks at Dean, unamused, and says, “Boy, don't think you're too old for me to take over my knee, cuz you ain't.”

Dean scowls.

Looking mildly entertained, Anna asks, “I take it you two also know each other?”

Dean jabs a thumb in the man's direction. “Bobby here's like a second dad to me an' Sammy. Sure as hell treated us nicer than our old man did.”

“That over there,” Charlie says, grinning and pointing to where Jo and Ellen are still bickering, “is Jo's mom, Ellen.”

“They don't look to be getting along too well,” Hannah muses.

Ash shrugs. “Ellen wants Jo to help her work the bar tonight.”

“Which is completely unfair!” Jo shouts, rounding her attention on Ash before quickly turning back to her mother. “I just got home! I want to relax.”

“You can relax once the customers clear out,” Ellen says sternly, unfazed.

Jo tries again, arguing, “Mom, I've been working on the Impala up until now! I deserve a break!”

There's crack in Ellen's resolve at that, seen plain as day all over her face; however, before she can say anything, another person comes from behind the door – a large, burly man with a beard and bandana around his head, wiping his hands on a cloth.

“Jo,” he says with a smile, his accent immediately and indisputably recognizable as the slow, slick drawl of the backwoods of Phobos. “If ya help us out, I'll make it worth yer while.”

Jo stares at him speculatively, untrusting. “Benny, not exactly sure what you mean there.”

Benny side-eyes Dean and Charlie with a grin. “Know you gotta be sick of the slop these two are always trying to pass off as food.”

There's a twin shout of, “Hey!” from the two in question.

A hopeful glimmer starts to shine in Jo's eyes. “Your gumbo?”

Benny nods. “Whole pot, jus' fo you.”

Jo grabs an apron off one of the hooks. “Alright! Where do I need to go!?”

* * *

 

Eventually, a table large enough for their whole group to sit at clears out, at which point the drinking and reveling and relaxing begins in true earnest. Later still, the group starts splintering off into smaller pairings; everyone, plied by alcohol, starting to pursue their own interests. Hannah and Charlie find their own little, dark corner to make out in; while Dean, Bela, and Ash make their way back to the bar, chatting amongst each other and with Benny. Anna seems to have drowned enough of her senses with booze that smells suspiciously like turpentine in order to find her inner social butterfly, which has led to an overly competitive game of pool, which Michael has long since given up on trying to chaperone. Sitting next to Castiel and drinking silently with his captain turns out to be much more to his preferences. And meanwhile, poor Jo slaves away, running orders back and forth, back and forth between the tables and the kitchen, until, finally, business starts to slow down enough that she's allowed to rest.

* * *

 

Jo heaves a heavy sigh, leaning tiredly against the sink where Garth, the scrawny, kind of weird, sous chef is washing up dishes.

“So you guys are traveling with the legendary crew of the Winged Ravager, huh?” he asks, sounding completely thrilled and in awe. Granted, he typically sounds that excited about most things, so Jo doesn't put too much stock into the tone.

“Yeah, but they're not like you'd think they'd be,” she answers, rubbing the back of her neck.

“They've led a hard life,” Garth responds, sounding much more sedate than is typical of him. Jo glances at him out of the corner of her eye and sees he's smiling sadly into the soapy water.

“You know about it?” she asks in surprise.

Garth shakes his head. “Not a bit, but you gotta figure, group as great as them scattering across the stars? They're hurting.”

Jo's face softens. “Sometimes I forget how surprisingly insightful you can be.”

Garth grins at her. “Like Ms. Ellen says, you work at a bar and you become a part-time therapist.”

Jo's face falls into mild agitation. “No one says that here except you.”

He turns his attention back to the dishes. “Well, either way, can't help that it's true.”

Jo follows his gaze into the dish water and then turns to face the sink, standing by his side. “I'll dry,” she says.

Garth hands off a glass to her, and they fall into a comfortable rhythm. Scrub, hand off. Dry, set down. They'll split the burden of putting them away later.

“You shouldn't put words in Mom's mouth you know,” Jo says softly, after they've been at it a minute or two. “She'd skin you if she found out you were misquoting her.”

“Not Ms. Ellen. She's too kind,” Garth responds cheerily, to which Jo snorts.

Several more minutes pass before Jo says, so quiet it could almost be missed, “I wish you were with us on the ship.”

“Ain't the life for me anymore, Joanna Beth,” Garth responds happily. It only serves to make Jo frown more severely, of which Garth quickly takes notice.

Shaking the suds off his hands, he turns to face her, cupping her cheeks between his wet hands and trying to make eye contact. “Hey now, Joanna Beth, don't be getting like that on me. You know I don't mind my lot in life one bit,” he says softly.

Jo sniffs, stubbornly responding, “Yeah, well maybe I do.”

Garth smiles lovingly. “You're always looking out for me,” he says, placing a gentle kiss to the top of her forehead. Jo leans into the gesture. “Besides, I don't mind the separation so much. Makes our reunions that much better.”

Jo gives a watery laugh and shoves gently at his shoulder, but not enough to actually push him away. No, they're apart enough as it is. Tonight, she wants to remember what it's like to be with him. There's always the chance he may not be around the next time she makes it back.

"Let's go see your friends," he says softly to her, slipping his hand into hers.

"They're insufferable," she warns him, looking back at him as she leads them to the door.

Garth smiles, big and gummy and honest. "You know there ain't no one I find insufferable."

And she smiles, too, because she knows it's completely true.

* * *

 

"This place doesn't seem as rough and tumble as I remember it," Hannah muses, looking around as Charlie nuzzles into her neck.

"You've been here before?" Charlie asks, and the way her lips brush against Hannah's skin makes the latter flush, her breath quicken.

Hannah nods. "A long time ago."

Charlie kisses her way up Hannah's neck, brushes their lips together, and then moves on to the other side. "Back in the old days?"

Hannah frowns and softly pushes Charlie away. The most recent memory she has of this place is the night she met Meg, and those thoughts clash too violently with Charlie feeling her up in a corner booth.

Charlie searches Hannah's eyes, looking worried. "Everything okay?"

Hannah smiles reassuringly and nods because, truly, everything is fine. She threads their fingers together. "Why don't we go socialize and we can continue this later, in private?"

Charlie pouts. "We see them all the time."

"I haven't met some of these people," Hannah reminds her juantily.

Charlie glances over Hannah's shoulder, where Dean, Benny, Ash, and Bela are talking. She shrugs. "They aren't so great," she says dismissively.

Hannah giggles, places a soft kiss to Charlie's cheek, and promises, "Later. You still have to rock my world, after all, remember?" before dragging Charlie from the booth.

* * *

 

"Can't believe you teamed up with them, Chief," Benny says to Dean with a bemused smile and shake of his head. "Never woulda believed if I didn't see it with my own eyes."

"I must say, I was rather shocked to hear about it, as well," Bela admits. "Not only are you working with them, you coaxed Castiel out of retirement, or so I hear. No small feat, for certain. There's more to you than meets the eyes, Dean Winchester." She tips her glass to him.

"Careful," Ash laughs, "or you might wind up on her radar."

"Does that make you jealous?" Bela teases, running a hand lewdly up Ash's thigh.

"Nah, no reason to be jealous. I like our arrangement just fine."

Bela pouts. "Well you certainly know how to flatter a woman," she drawls.

Dean watches the exchange with something between disgust and disbelief. "I will never in a million years understand that."

Benny claps a hand down on Dean's shoulder. "Love is blind, brotha"

Bela whips around to chastise them. "There's no love about it. Ash is simply the best lay this side of the Warp Way."

Dean gags, while Benny laughs uproariously.

"Way more than I ever needed to know, thanks," Dean grumbles.

Bela turns her full attention on Dean, watching him predatorily. "And what about you? Hm?"

"What about me?" Dean retorts sharply, watching her mistrustfully.

"Well, everyone on your ship seems to be paired off with someone now. Charlie was the last one, but from the way she's going at it with Castiel's second over there, I'm guessing she's no longer on the market. So I'm simply wondering, what's going on with you? Can't find anyone?"

Ash winces before the words, "Screw you, Bela," are even out of Dean's mouth.

"Dean and Bela?" Charlie chirps. "What what about Ash?"

Dean glares at his second while Benny chuckles.

"Oh please," Bela says with disdain. "He only wishes."

"Those are called nightmares, Bela," Dean snaps.

Bela chooses to ignore him, continuing on to say, "I was simply commenting on the fact that it would appear Dean is the only one who will be going home to an empty bed tonight."

Hannah and Charlie glance at each other, both wearing twin winces. Turning back to Bela, Charlie says with trepidation, “That's, uh... That's a bit of a touchy subject right now.”

At this, Bela looks truly intrigued. “What? Did someone reject him?”

“I wasn't rejected!” Dean snaps.

“You were a little rejected,” Charlie says apologetically.

“Whose side are you on!?” he squawks.

“The side of truth and justice!” Charlie proclaims with conviction, which has everyone laughing.

Once they sober a little more, Bela looks over at Dean and asks, “So you were rejected, what's the big deal? Go proposition someone else.”

Staring down somberly, Dean responds, “It's not that easy.”

Bela gasps scandalously. “Don't tell me you've gone and fallen in love!”

Dean glowers now. “Don't act so shocked. Doesn't make a damn bit of difference anyway.”

“Don't speak that way,” Hannah says softly, and when he looks up he can see that there's something like sadness and hope in her eyes. He knows she wants him to be the one to save her friend, that all of them want that of him, and hell, he wants that himself, but he can't do a damn thing about it if Cas won't let him.

Dean is snapped out of his morose thoughts by Benny saying, “Tough luck, brotha', but them's the breaks.”

Dean quirks an eyebrow at Benny. “That's rich coming from you. How long did you chase after Andrea, again?”

“Pretty sure it was the better part of ten years,” Jo says, stepping out from the kitchen, Garth's hand held in hers.

“Though to hear her say it, it was more like a hundred,” Charlie says with a smile.

“And to hear him say it, it was love at first sight for her!” Dean says, grinning in Benny's direction.

“And now, he's totally wrapped around her finger,” Bela says with a coy little smirk. “A cook in a bar since she said she wouldn't marry someone who ran around pirating.”

Though Benny's face is flushed red and though he sounds stubborn when he says, “Best damn decision I ever made,” there's pure joy in the smile he tries to suppress. Every last one of them knows just how much Benny loves his wife.

Charlie sighs dreamily. “Relationship goals, am I right?”

* * *

 

“You're a lot of fun to hang out with,” Michael comments dryly over the rim of his glass.

Castiel glances at him and says, “You could always go back to babysitting Anna.”

Michael shivers. “She's a little too much fun right now.”

Castiel smiles briefly before going back to watching the group at the bar. They're all laughing and joking, Dean at the center of it. Something ugly twists in his stomach, and his smile falls.

“You know,” Michael says conversationally, “you aren't allowed to be jealous when you're the only one standing in the way of your own happiness.”

Castiel blinks, startled, and looks fully at Michael, who is also staring at the group at the bar. “I'm not jealous,” Castiel argues, even as he has to silently admit to himself that just maybe he is.

Without looking Castiel's way, Michael goes on, “You are jealous, though. Not in any sort of romantic sense, of course. It's obvious no one up there is interested in him. But you're jealous all the same, jealous of the closeness, of the camaraderie. And the thing is? There's no damn good reason for you to be that way. You could be up there with them if you'd stop wallowing in your own useless misery.”

Castiel stares at Michael with a sense of hurt and betrayal flooding his system. Michael finally looks sternly in Castiel's direction, and seeing the obvious pain there, he sighs tiredly. “Look,” Michael says, “I'm saying this because I care about you just as much as Hannah and Anna do. The only difference is, they coddle you, and I don't think that's what you need. Maybe at first, but not now.”

“They coddle me?” Castiel asks, stunned.

Michael nods. “They don't mean to, but trust me, they coddle you. Especially Anna.”

Castiel nods slowly. He supposes that maybe they do.

“All I'm saying is, you can sit here and wallow in your misery forever, or you can let someone in. You can let yourself love someone again.”

“But what if –“ Castiel begins.

“What if what? What if it winds up like before? Well, what if it does?”

Castiel stares at Michael in shock, barely able to absorb what Michael is saying. So what if it does? How can he say that?

“There's a million different ways people can lose each other,” Michael says softly. “The important part is making the most of the time we have with them now. Why waste our lives fretting about what could happen when we could take advantage of the moment and maybe wind up incredibly happy, even if for just a short time?” When Castiel makes no move to say anything, Michael sighs. “It's up to you what you want to do, but as your friend, I feel it's my obligation to tell you that no matter how it happens, he won't be waiting around forever.” He pushes up and away from the table. “I'm off to corral Anna before she pisses off the wrong person.” And just like that, he's gone, leaving Castiel to think about all that he's said.

* * *

 

“So when will you guys be heading out again?” Garth asks.

Dean stretches languidly, responding, “Probably tomorrow, soon as everyone gets up and moving again.”

“Shouldn't you kids be forming some kind of plan before you go running back off into the wild blue yonder?” Ellen asks, her and Bobby having recently come around to talk to everyone else since business has slowed down.

“It would be beneficial to know just how we're going to go about all this,” Hannah recommends.

“Whatever all this is,” Charlie groans.

It comes as a shock to everyone when suddenly Castiel is standing among them, determination set into the lines of his face.

“Everything alright, Cas?” Jo asks.

There's a slight tremble to Castiel's hands, even as he nods, eyes boring into Dean's.

Dean swallows. “You got something you want to add?” he asks, trying to cover the shake in his voice.

Once again, Castiel nods, but then he's reaching for Dean, pulling him into a kiss. It's short and slightly off center, too dry and too sudden, but when he pulls back, smiling weakly, Dean feels his head spinning as though it had been the kind of kiss to steal your breath away.

“I want this, Dean,” Castiel whispers, “if it's still something you want.”

  
  



	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Castiel leave The Roadhouse behind in a haze, completely unaware of the slack-jawed stares pointed their way, as well as the drunken “Whoop!”from Anna. They stumble through the streets toward the port where The Impala is moored, unable to keep their hands off each other, whether they're holding hands as they run through the streets with goofy grins on their faces or ducking off into alleyways or the sides of buildings to kiss desperate and sloppy.

Dean and Castiel leave The Roadhouse behind in a haze, completely unaware of the slack-jawed stares pointed their way, as well as the drunken “Whoop!”from Anna. They stumble through the streets toward the port where The Impala is moored, unable to keep their hands off each other, whether they're holding hands as they run through the streets with goofy grins on their faces or ducking off into alleyways or the sides of buildings to kiss desperate and sloppy.

When they make it to the ship, they take a moment to stop and appreciate the quiet emptiness of the ship. For now, she's all theirs, the only witness to this moment between them. Dean cups Castiel's face and stares down into that fathomless blue, hardly believing that they're here and this is real.

“What's wrong?” Castiel asks, searching Dean's eyes, suddenly afraid that this will end, that Dean will realize what a lost cause he is and walk away.

“Kind of afraid this is a dream,” Dean admits.

Castiel reaches up to touch Dean's hand. “If it is, don't wake me up.”

Dean snorts. “We're two complete saps, aren't we?”

“Is that such a bad thing?” Castiel asks.

Dean smiles softly in reverence. “No, I guess it's not.”

They kiss again, more sedate than the giddy gropings on the way here. It's slow and soft, exploring and treasuring, Castiel leaning back into the wall as Dean leans into him. Dean's weight is heavy on top of him, but it feels safe and comforting, and Castiel wants more. He reaches up and pulls Dean closer, deepening the kiss, tongue slipping past Dean's lips to meet his own. Dean groans, bracing one hand against the wall while the other tangles into Castiel's hair, tilting the man's head back as Dean nips and sucks at that plush bottom lip.

“We should get out of the hallway before everyone else comes back,” Dean says in a moment of clarity, barely willing to move far enough back to say the words. His lips brush against Cas's while he speaks.

Cas nods. “Which room?”

Dean smirks coyly. “The captain's quarters, of course.”

Castiel chuckles softly. “Of course.”

The journey through the ship is made at a much more sedate pace than their way to it. Suddenly, it doesn't feel like there's any need to rush. Despite the state of the world around them and the mission they're on, it feels like they have all the time in the world.

When they reach Dean's room, they undress each other slowly, pressing kisses to every new inch of skin revealed, paying special attention to the scars unveiled along the way.

“You sure this is what you want?” Dean asks as they fall into bed.

“More than anything else,” Castiel promises, and he means it so much that it honestly startles him. When Dean holds him, suddenly revenge doesn't seem quite so important.

* * *

 

No matter how much time has passed since Jo was last home, it never fails that when she is, she wakes up with the sun, regardless of the time she went to sleep the night prior. If it weren't something she knows has been ingrained in her since she was old enough to help around the house, and then later the bar, she would think it has something to do with sharing a bed. All that seems to have done, though, is make her never want to leave the blankets.

Garth is still asleep when she wakes up, and it sends a pang through her heart. She remembers when he used to be the first one up. Now, it seems, his illness makes him sleep more. She's sure his body needs it.

She studies his face while he sleeps, inventories the old, familiar lines of his face, as well as the ones that have appeared in her absence. Watching him like this awakens old longings, ones she can half convince herself she no longer has while she's out traversing the stars. Then she comes home, comes back to him, and it all floods her system again. She wants to kiss him, to love him like she never had the chance to. To love him like he swears he won't let her because he won't cause her undue pain when he's ultimately taken from her. But doesn't he know it's too late for that? She's never been able to convince, despite the fact that every time she comes home until the time she leaves again, they never let each other out of their sight, sharing a bed and meals and time off. He's in denial, she thinks, because it became too late to stop this before they even realized it began.

His eyes flutter open, and he shoots a tired, beaming smile her way. She's helpless to return it. He reaches out and caresses her face. “We should get breakfast ready, don't you think? Probably gonna have a few people hankering for some good, old-fashioned hangover food.”

Jo nods.

They stay in bed just a little longer.

* * *

 

“Titan mornings are too bright,” Anna groans, nuzzling further into Michael's chest.

He smiles indulgently. “You only say that because you drank enough to down a banna.”

She moans miserably. “Don't be mean to me.”

Michael kisses the crown of her head and says, “Wouldn't dream of it.”

"It's not nice to make fun of the ill," she whines.

Michael laughs and runs his fingers through her long hair, which leaves her almost purring. "Get some more rest," he instructs her softly. "I don't think we're in any hurry today, not after the way Castiel and Dean ran off last night."

Anna smiles against his skin. "So that wasn't a drunken delusion, huh?"

He shakes his head. "Nope."

Anna murmurs, "I'm glad," before snuggling up even closer to him and drifting back off to sleep.

Michael continues stroking her hair and quietly agrees with her.

* * *

 

When Charlie wakes up, the first thing she sees is Hannah standing in front of the window with a sheet wrapped around her, rising sun silhouetting her.

Almost as if she senses Charlie's awakening, Hannah softly says, "No matter where I go, I've never found a sunrise more beautiful than the ones on Titan."

Charlie sits up, arranging the pillows so that she can lean back against them. "You're from here, aren't you?" she asks as the vague memory of a conversation they had comes through the fog of sleep.

Hannah nods, fondly watching the golden hue of the sky glitter.

“You ever miss it?” Charlie asks.

Hannah shakes her head. “Not in the least. I always knew I wanted to travel, and home was always just a cage, no matter how gorgeous it was.”

Charlie laughs softly. “Explains the missionary thing.”

Hannah lets out a breathy laugh of her own. “I suppose it does.”

She stands and watches the sunrise until it has fully breached the horizon, and Charlie watches her, in turn. It's a quiet moment, a comfortable one. When Hannah returns to bed, she presses a kiss to Charlie's pliant lips. “Thank you,” she says.

“For what?” Charlie asks. “For rocking your world last night?” She winks salaciously.

Pushing Charlie's hair behind her ear, Hannah murmurs hotly, “Among other things.”

Even as she's being pushed back against the pillows, Charlie whispers, “I could do it again.”

Hannah smiles slyly, the sheet sliding off her body and to the bed. “No. I think it's time I return the favor.”

“That works, too,” Charlie agrees, completely lost in the moment, before Hannah seals their mouths together.

* * *

 

“We gotta make an effort to meet up more often,” Ash comments, leaning casually back against the pillows while Bela gets dressed. “Can't believe you have to go already.”

"Yes, well, a woman's work is never done," Bela chides as though her job is a long-suffering chore as opposed to something Ash knows she loves. She pulls her shirt over her head and then turns to study the bed and him in it. A fond expression comes over her face, looking almost out of place among her catlike features. "Sometimes I think about taking you with me," she admits.

Ash stretches his arms up, the sheet sliding a little lower down his chest, and then places them behind his said, teasing her, "Not for sale, baby."

The joke seems to please her as an amused huff of air passes from her between her lips, unnaturally pale without the seemingly-constant sheen of red lipstick across them. "I could do it the proper pirate way then. Steal you away."

Ash smiles, sated. "Woman after my own heart." They stare across the room at each other, a million different scenarios each running through their heads. More reasonably, Ash says, "We'd kill each other."

"Oh, I know that," Bela says flippantly. "I was only teasing. I certainly don't want to be responsible for hauling a man around."

Back to teasing, Ash says, "Never mind splitting the pay, right?"

Bela gasps, affronted. "The thought! Thank goodness you have brains to go along with that strangely strong pelvic thrust."

Ash howls with laughter. "That is either the nicest or weirdest compliment I've ever received from a woman."

"It's coming from me; of course it's nice," Bela purrs. She turns to leave the room.

"Hey, Bela," Ash calls after her, and with her hand still on the doorknob, she turns to him. He's smiling at her, and if it were anyone other than them, she would say it almost looks loving. "Until next time," he says.

She tries to return the smile, tries to ignore the punch of good conscience that suddenly slams into her. He won't notice her struggle; she's a far better actress than that. "Until later," she says, and leaves the room. If he finds the wording strange, she doesn't know. He doesn't call after her again.

* * *

 

Cas and Dean lay in bed, honest-to-god cuddling, letting the hums and whirs of the ship lull them into that halfway place between sleep and wakefulness.

"It's quiet," Castiel notes.

"Yeah, guess no one came back last night," Dean responds.

"So we could have had sex in the hall," Castiel reasons.

Dean laughs, the sound reverberating pleasantly through his chest, where Castiel is resting his head. "Man, I can't tell if you're joking or not."

"Dead serious," Castiel says, but when Dean glances down as him, Cas is smiling, so there's really no telling.

They doze a little longer, fingers absent-mindedly tracing freckles and skin and old scars, before Castiel says, "We should formulate a plan."

Still addled by sleep, Dean dubiously asks, "A plan?"

Cas nods, his stubble scratching pleasingly against Dean's bare skin. "We can't just fly about without purpose if we’re to save your brother."

Dean's stomach pitches violently. While he could never forget their mission, his mission, it had been pushed to the back of his mind in light of the pure joy that came from Cas being in his arms. It's jarring, and while a part of him bitterly thinks Cas is a distraction, another part, a greater part, thinks that maybe he could do with a good distraction in his life.

"We've managed to avoid solid planning up until now," Castiel continues, "but it won't do to keep up that way. If Crowley doesn't already have eyes on us, he will soon."

"Oh Love, he's had eyes on you from the beginning."

Both Dean and Castiel jump at the sudden voice and appearance of Bela in the doorway.

"What the hell, Bela!? Don't scare us like that!" Dean shouts, instinctively pulling the sheets up closer around them both.

Castiel stares at he wide-eyed. "What did you say."

Bela smiles, almost sadly. "It's a pity, really. I truly do like you lot, but business is business, I'm afraid."

"What the hell are you talking about, Bela!" Dean growls, tugging Castiel closer.

Bela continues smiling sadly, even as she says, "Hold him tight as you like; it won't stop what's coming." Then she fits a mask over her face as the ventilation units through the ship begin to whir more violently.

"What the -!" Dean cries, just as Castiel warns, "It's a gas!" But it's too late. Already, they are beginning to feel sluggish, and before another minute passes, they are unconscious.

* * *

 

Ash never even realizes his key to the ship is gone until hours later, after he's woken up the second time. By then, it's too late.

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "All I want in return for Sam Winchester is you in his place."

When Castiel next awakens, he's in a holding cell. At first, he thinks he's alone, and panic lances through him. Where's Dean? He manages to steady his breathing - a deep breath in, a long breath out - and checks out his surroundings more thoroughly. There, several cells down, is Dean, still passed out, and though he has no way of knowing the state Dean is in, he has to make due with visual confirmation that he is at least there. If Castiel woke up from the gas-induced slumber, so, too, will Dean. At least, that's what he tries to convince himself of.

They both seem to be dressed in generic prisoners' scrubs, which are a flat, monotone gray. He finds himself torn between the relief that he was not left naked and the revulsion that someone dressed him. Considering who he's sure is behind this, he settles on relief that he was given clothing at all and that it is as simple as it is. Things could be worse.

He sits in his cell, waiting for someone to come for them, there being little else to do. He's sure there’s a force field around the bars, and he has no way to test whether it is electrified. It isn't too long before he realizes the cell is also soundproof, at which point, he determines definitely electrified. He's seen these cells before - they were a favorite of Lucifer's back in the days of his reign. The tactic was simple - drive a prisoner to insanity with the oppressive silence and then watch them fry themselves in a desperate bid for escape. Honestly, Castiel is surprised to find them still in use, as knowing Crowley as he does, he knows at least that the man isn't quite that evil. He must not use this stronghold often, then.

Castiel doesn’t worry about counting the time, nor does he find any point in restlessly awaiting someone to come for him. It will happen eventually, whether he stresses about it or not. He won’t give Crowley any pleasure in seeing him squirm. Castiel closes his eyes and focuses on his breathing, falling into a sort of meditative state. Despite being out of practice at the habit, it returns to him easily enough, the silence aiding by reminding him of the citadel on Charon.

Sure enough, an indiscernible amount of time later, the force field is stripped away and the door opens. The sudden onslaught of sound is jarring, jerking Castiel out of his meditation in a way unhealthy for his heart, which skips several beats before returning to a natural, if not slightly accelerated, tempo.

"Cas, thank god!" Castiel turns his head, relieved to see Dean up and speaking, even if he is being manhandled by a brutish looking thug.

Before Castiel can say anything in return, he's being yanked out of his cell and pushed forward by a second brute. This one says harshly, "The boss'll see you now." The rank of his rotten breath makes Castiel gag.

They’re led through hallway after hallway, and while Castiel tries desperately to memorize the path they take and spot any possible escape routes, the whole place looks so damn generic that he can't manage to keep track of the way.

"Damn gas's got me fucked," he hears Dean grumble behind him, and he silently agrees.

When they finally reach their destination, it is almost not soon enough, Cas’s legs about ready to give out on him. Another side effect of the gas, he’s sure. They enter a large, open room; the sudden, glaring whiteness of it is nearly blinding after the drab gray of the cell and halls.

Though Castiel can't see him due to the sudden brightness, he can hear Crowley saying, "Well, looks like our guests of honor have arrived." He simultaneously feels his blood boiling and like throwing up.

"Bela, you bitch!" Dean snarls. And sure enough, as Castiel blinks away the spots dancing before his eyes, he begins to be able to make out Crowley on a throne before them with Bela Talbot at his side.

"Now, now, Dean," Crowley tsks, "don't blame her. She was merely doing what is expected of her. You've only yourself to blame for your predicament."

And even as Dean is spitting and cursing only scant feet away from him, Castiel knows Crowley is right. Not everyone can be strong enough to stand up to those in charge. It's a sad, but unavoidable truth. If they could, people like Crowley and Lucifer would never be allowed the rise to power in the first place. Castiel feels sick for his role in Crowley's ascent.

"What do you want, Crowley?" Castiel growls, low and dangerous. Dean is suddenly silent, while Crowley smirks down at him.

"I did always dream of looking down on you like this, Castiel," Crowley says, oil-slick voice slithering under Castiel’s skin like an illness. This time, it's Dean who growls, and Crowley simply laughs.

"You've gotten yourself into quite the mess, Dean," Crowley says jauntily. "Stolen my property more times than I can count." The look he gives Dean is dark, promising pain and retribution. It makes Cas's blood run cold. "Though I will say, the company you keep presents you with an interesting opportunity."

"Oh yeah?" Dean challenges, his own violent promise laced into the words.

"I'm willing to make a deal with you," Crowley says.

"I'm not making any deals with you," Dean spits.

"Don't be so hasty," Crowley chides. "I'm offering you your brother back."

That silences Dean, renders him near-paralyzed. In his stead, Castiel asks, "What's the catch?"

Crowley smiles in delight. "I'm glad you ask," he says. "All I want in return for Sam Winchester is you in his place." He pauses and then adds, "Well, not exactly in his place. I'd be keeping you a little closer, of course. I was a fool to let you slip away the first time."

Castiel nods grimly. This is a sacrifice he's willing to make. However, before he can consent, Dean is gruffly asking, "What's the alternative?"

Crowley regards him smugly. "Castiel goes free while you and your brother stay with me."

"That one," Dean says, self-assured.

Castiel's eyes widen, panic lancing through his chest. "Dean, no!" This can't be happening. Not again.

Dean smiles at him reassuringly. "Have some faith in me, Cas," he says, and as desperately as Castiel wants to, he can't. Not after last time. Not after Meg.

Meanwhile, Crowley simply looks perturbed. "So you would condemn your brother to save a man you barely know."

Deaan shoots him a cocky grin in challenge. "Sammy'll get it. Besides, I think you might be underestimating us."

Crowley sneers at him, clearly displeased with how this is all panning out. With a reserved sigh, he says, "Fine. I'm nothing if not a man of my word." He waves a hand dismissively. "Take Castiel away."

Castiel is jerked back, being dragged away as he futilely tries to kick his failing legs. "Damn it, Dean!" he shouts angrily.

Dean just keeps looking at him with that same smile. "Don't worry, Cas," he calls after him. "I’ll make it back to you, promise!."

It's the last thing Cas hears before the door slams in front of him, effectively blocking him off from Dean. He's shouting, struggling, feral in his sudden need to be back in there, but it's no use. His body is still too weak from the gas. He wants to sob, but instead, he shouts more and more. He shouts until his voice goes hoarse and there's a pinch in his neck as someone sticks him with a needle. Then, there is only darkness.

* * *

 

When Castiel comes to, it's night. It takes no time for him to remember what happened. Despite the fact he's laying in garbage with cold rain pelting down on him and a homeless boy staring at him curiously, all he wants to do is curl up and never move again. A violent sobs cracks out of him, startling the boy into running off, and the only coherent thought Castiel has is, I never realized there were homeless people on Titan.

Eventually, he does move, trudging slowly through the almost empty streets, directionless. He doesn't know Titan's topography that well, doesn't even really know for certain that he's still on Titan. It's only through the grace of miracles that he stumbles into The Roadhouse. It is perhaps less a miracle that the entire crew is there, trying to divine where their captains have been taken to and how they'll save them.

They all run at him at once, but it's Jo who asks, "Where's Dean?"

Castiel can only numbly shake his head, and the poor girl looks immediately heartbroken. It won't occur to Castiel until much later that his gesture could be interpreted as Dean is dead. Granted, for all Castiel knows, he very well could be.

It's Hannah who wraps him in a large blanket and steers him away, up the stairs, and into a bed. He doesn't dry off, and he doesn't change out of his wet clothes. He only curls into himself and cries, while Hannah rubs soothing circles into his back and sings soft lullabies until he falls asleep. She winds up singing all night.

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He has to save Dean. At least, he has to try. The only problem is how?

The following morning, Castiel refuses to leave bed for breakfast, though he insists Hannah does. She reluctantly leaves him, and he hopes to himself the she will get some rest, too. After all, he spent plenty of yesterday asleep; he doubts she had the same luxury.

No one bothers him after that, and while Castiel is perhaps a little surprised that at least Anna and Michael don't come in or that Jo doesn't come up demanding to know what happened to Dean, he can't say he's displeased about it. The silence gives him time to think.

Briefly, he considers running away again, just as he had when Meg was murdered. It could be easy - sneak out the window and hop a shuttle to some far off place. Maybe this time no one would come looking for him. Except that seems unlikely; Dean's crew already found him once, and if Anna were to get involved, he's sure he could never stay hidden for long. Besides, he isn't sure Dean is dead, and as much as he doesn't want to cling to hope because it has the chance of being all the more painful, he also knows it's crucial that he does. He let Meg down; he won't do the same for Dean.

So, running away is out.

He has to save Dean. At least, he has to try. The only problem is how?

Overthrowing Crowley seems to be the only way to insure safety, and it's something Castiel finds he wants now more than ever. But once again, how? They have no strong allies, no true force banded together in pursuit of justice and all that. In fact of the matter, most people are afraid of Crowley, and Castiel doesn't blame them. There's a lot to be said of a man who can step into the void left behind by Lucifer and demand the respect of the whole cartel, even if it took doing away with those who wouldn't follow in line. Especially when it took doing away with those who wouldn't follow in line. Lucifer and his lot were a terrifying order to the general populace, and that makes Crowley's succession appear even more impressive.

In truth, Lucifer had been easy to defeat. He'd been an over-confident man who ruled through fear. He had very few people that were honestly loyal to him, and he'd thought himself indestructible. It didn't hurt that back then, Castiel and his crew had a military prototype ship and were united by a single, common goal - remove Lucifer from power - even if they perhaps were in pursuit of that goal for different reasons. The different reasons hadn't seemed to matter until it was too late.

Now all they have is two incomplete crews with different ideas as to what they truly want, all aboard one souped-up civilian transport. Never mind that Crowley is so very different than Lucifer. He may be a smug bastard, but he's calculating, the kind of guy who has contingency plans for his contingency plans. He also fosters loyalty. He's ruthless, but fair, a man of his word, just as he'd said in that bunker. He follows through on all his deals.

It all makes Castiel's head swim in frustration, makes him tug at his hair in distraction from the hopeless feeling that threatens to overwhelm him. On top of that, he can hear the chatter and clinking of people in the bar down below, and it only adds to the clutter of his brain. He needs quiet and solitude, and for the sun to stop playing fucking peek-a-boo with the clouds. He needs to be able to think!

Before he knows it, he's up and out of the bed, storming out of the room and slamming the door behind him. He knows where he needs to be, and he needs to be there now.

* * *

 

The only customers in The Roadhouse at this time of day are a handful of regulars and a crew just passing through on a drop. It leaves far more time to be miserable and far less time to plan than any of them would like. Not that they even know what to plan. Not a single one of them even knows if Dean is dead or alive, or, if he is alive, where he is.

The Roadhouse is covered in a quiet pall.

No one expects it when Castiel tears in like a storm of righteous fury and announces, "I need to go to Pluto."

Jo is the first one to snap out of her mute stare, asking, "Is that where Dean is?"

"No," Castiel says quickly, and then shakes his head to clear it. "It could be," he corrects, "but it's unlikely."

Jo looks obviously frustrated, but before she can say anything, Charlie authoritatively asks, "What's on Pluto."

It's Hannah who answers, "The citadel," sounding completely in awe.

Castiel nods.

"What the fuck is the citadel?" Jo demands, and it's a testament to the severity of the situation that Ellen Harvelle doesn't correct her daughter's language. Garth does place a steady hand on Jo's back, though, in an attempt to calm her down.

"It's a religious sanctuary, right?" Charlie asks. "I read about it one time."

Once more, Castiel nods. "Will you take me?" he asks.

Charlie studies him for a moment. "You promise this isn't an attempt to run away?"

"I promise," he swears.

"And is Dean alive?" Her voice catches on the question, and Castiel clenches his fists, looking pained.

"I hope so," he says softly.

"Then we'll take you," she says.

"Charie-!" Jo makes to protests, but Charlie rounds on her, steel-faced.

"I'm the captain now," she states, "at least until Dean is back. If you don't like that or you don't agree with my decisions, then feel free to stay here; no one will force you to go. But we don't have any other leads right now. We don't know where Dean is or how to get to him. If this can help, even a little, it's my call to make, and I'm making it. Besides, I'm sure it's the best call Cas knows to make, too. I don't think he would give up on Dean, after all. He's a little invested by this point."

Castiel nods, but won't meet her eyes. Even if he isn't running away, even if he's trying to do the best that he can, the thought had still crossed his mind. He can't not feel ashamed over that.

"So are you in or out?" Charlie asks Jo.

Jo studies Charlie's face, and then Castiel. She glances around the room, and when her eyes land on Garth, he smiles reassuringly. "Go bring that boy back home," he says. It's all the encouragement she needs.

"I'm in," she says.

"Good." And then she turns, addressing every one of her crew members present. "Pack up, and pack up fast. I wanna be up and in the skies in two hours!" She walks off to do just that, sparing no more words or glances.

Anna leans over and whispers in Hannah's ear, "Your girlfriend is kind of a badass."


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charon's citadel is a massive work of art, the kind of thing even historians can barely explain. It spans several miles at the base, while the peaked tower shoots up beyond the breathable atmosphere of the moon. Stain glass windows reflect the scant light around them, sparkling in a haunting sort of beauty, while the low chanting of hymns in tongues of long-dead languages are forever pouring out from within.

Dean stumbles blindly along as he's led by two men to his cell. With each time he trips or they handle him unnecessarily harshly, Dean's anger builds and builds. He's got to keep it together though, has to remember that he made a promise to Cas and that with any luck, he'll see Sammy soon and they can jet the hell out of here.

Granted, he's had a bag over his head on this little jaunt through wherever, and he'd been drugged, in and out of consciousness, while they were transporting him, but, hey, he's Dean fucking Winchester, a few little things like that won't stop him!

Without preamble, he's suddenly shoved forward at the same time as the bag over his head is being ripped off. He nearly falls flat on his face, and as he turns around to yell at the couple of goons for the treatment, he hears the shocked intake of breath and "Dean!?"

Dean instantly turns to his left, and there, in the cell beside his, is Sam. "Sammy," he utters, and he's almost completely oblivious to the the beep as the cuffs are remotely removed and the way one of the men mockingly says, "Have fun with the family reunion."

The brothers stare at each other in silence, both of them teary eyed. Dean has never hated the force field technology more than he does now, when he can see his baby brother and all he wants to do is hug him, but he can't.

"Well this is some daring rescue," an unimpressed voice drawls, and Dean's head snaps up, looking far beyond Sam to a tiny woman with scraggly, unkempt, black hair. "If you'd planned to try the inside-out approach, I can already assure you that it doesn't work," she says.

Dean furrows his brow, and, in utter confusion, asks, "Who the hell are you?"

* * *

 

Pluto and its moons are so far away from civilization and so inwardly focused that they are considered by many to be their very own, backwoods system. The port isn't even on the planet, located instead in the sky far above it. Smaller, individual shuttles ferry people down to the planet and various moons' surfaces. There are separate, smaller shuttles to take people between them. Very few people besides Pluto natives travel to any of the moons besides Charon. Even the natives hardly go anywhere else besides Kerberos. Even then, it's only professional trappers with interest in snagging the aptly named Kerberos dogs, a skeletal, hound-like creature known for its vicious teeth and breath that smells of rot. It's long since been rumored that the carta king, Crowley, has one of his very own. Castiel can tell you that it's no rumor.

"How do you know?" Jo asks curiously as they wait for the shuttle to take them to the planet.

Castiel wrinkles his nose in distaste. "I was with him when he got her. Stole her as a pup right from her mother's den, almost got us both eaten." Castiel scrunches his forehead up in thought. "Actually, now that I think about it, I'm surprised the shuttle driver let us on. We couldn't have been more than sixteen at the time, if that."

As Hannah asks curiously, "They really live that long?", Dean's crew still seems to be stuck on something else.

"Wait, you two knew each other!?" Charlie screeches.

"We grew up together," Castiel explains calmly.

Suddenly, things are starting to make a lot more sense.

"And you're just now telling us this?" Ash asks.

"It didn't seem important that you knew," Cas answers.

Jo whips her head around to look at his crew. "Did you guys know this?"

"He was part of our crew," Michael answers. "Once Castiel got settled in, he wanted us to take him back to say a proper goodbye to him. Crowley insisted he come with us. He was smart, a real asset to the crew, while it lasted."

Suddenly, things make perfect sense, but no one says it. It seems pointless to pick at things they have all been able to tell are barely scabbed over, so they sit quietly the whole way to the planet's surface, and even on the shuttle to Charon. The only words spoken are by Hannah. As they wait on the second shuttle, she quietly asks Castiel, "Do you want to go see your family?"

He shakes his head, smiling sadly. "I'm sure they wouldn't appreciate the visit."

Charon's citadel is a massive work of art, the kind of thing even historians can barely explain. It spans several miles at the base, while the peaked tower shoots up beyond the breathable atmosphere of the moon. Stain glass windows reflect the scant light around them, sparkling in a haunting sort of beauty, while the low chanting of hymns in tongues of long-dead languages are forever pouring out from within. This, here on a small moon in the farthest corner of the system, is the religious mecca for all those who still Believe. Believe in what, no one but the Believers could tell you. It's the journey all Believers long to take in their lifetimes, and even if you don't Believe, it's still a sight to behold.

Castiel wanders on ahead as Charlie, Jo, and Ash drink it all in.

"Be careful," Anna instructs, and Castiel smiles at her so brilliantly that it takes her aback.

"I've nothing to fear," he assures her before disappearing behind the giant, cathedral doors.

"Where's he going?" Charlie asks.

"To seek advice," Anna says gravely.

Charlie raises her eyebrow, skeptically asking, "From a priest?"

Anna grimly shakes her head.

* * *

 

Castiel walks through the halls, passing by priests and sisters and pilgrims all lost in prayer. He walks and walks and walks the endless, twisting way to the Room of Souls, which is settled far within the citadel. Few people come here, most too afraid and others simply can't find the way, but Castiel could walk this path in his sleep. He's come here many times in his life, first with his mother and father when he had been young, and then many times more after that.

He pushes open the heavy, unadorned doors, stepping into the one place on all of Charon where you cannot hear the hymns. It closes behind him.

There are no candles or electric lights in the Room of Souls, only small, floating, blue lights that look as though they are made up of bioluminescent gas. Believers will tell you these are these souls of those we miss most, while people not of the Belief have made claims they must be a hallucinogenic gas unique to this moon. They've never been allowed in to test it. Whether it's true or not, sometimes people need to be allowed to have faith.

There is only one other person in the room - a woman, sitting in a pew up front, near the alter. Tears are falling freely down her face as she soundlessly cries, dancing, blue lights bobbing up and down all around her, almost as if to comfort her. Castiel averts his eyes quickly; it's rude to watch other people in their Experiences. He slides into a pew in the back, says a silent prayer to Saint Marie, patron saint of the dead, as he crosses his chest, and then he slides back and closes his eyes.

* * *

 

Everyone has migrated into the main antechamber, perusing the artifacts as though they are in a museum.

"So where did Cas go?" Charlie asks.

Hannah, Michael, and Anna all exchange glances before Hannah says, "He seeks guidance in the Room of Souls."

"Room of Souls?" Jo questions.

Ash says, "Isn't that that freaky room with the gas that makes you hallucinate?"

Hannah purses her lips into a grim line, while Michael advises, "You should be careful how loudly you say things like that here. The priests and sisters won't ask you to leave, but some of the common Believers can become quite agitated by such talk."

Ash quickly glances around.

"Besides," says Anna, "is there something so wrong with believing in something?"

"But isn't it kind of cult-y?" Charlie asks skeptically.

Hannah smiles patiently at her. "Not at all."

"So you Believe, then?" Charlie asks.

"I am a missionary. I took my pilgrimage here for the first time when I was seven."

Ash looks at Anna and Michael. "You guys, too?"

"Michael was raised in it," Anna answers, "and I discovered the Belief while in the military. It offered solace in a very dark time." She smiles, small and pained.

Michael wraps his arm around her, pulling her close. "We sought sanctuary here when we defected. We never would have lived if they hadn't taken us in."

"I think it's nice," Jo says softly, surprising her crew mates. "After all, what's so wrong with believing there can be more to life than what we know?"

"Jo..." Charlie says softly.

* * *

 

"Never thought I'd see you here," a warm voice purrs in Castiel's ear. When he opens his eyes, Meg is beside him. He's never made communion with the dead before this, but it's just as all the stories he's heard have told him. She is there, but not there, tinged slightly blue and not fully solid before his eyes. But she's as beautiful as he remembers, and he can't help but smile at that.

"You look good, Clarence," she says, "like you've moved on with your life."

Castiel nods, unable to keep from smiling in her presence, despite the circumstances surrounding his life right now. Real or not, spiritual experience or figment of his imagination, it's still Meg, and she gave him a purpose in life back when he'd thought he'd never do anything more significant with his life than take over the family farm.

"So tell me about 'em," she says teasingly.

"His name is Dean," Castiel starts. "He's kind and fierce and beautiful. He makes me smile, makes me happy as I haven't been since..." He glances guilty at her, and she smiles weakly at him.

"I know, Clarence. You don't have to say you’re sorry. It was never your fault."

Castiel places his head in his hands, voice breaking as he chokes out, "I brought him on the ship."

"No," she says forcefully, and when Castiel looks up, Meg is staring at him heatedly, trying to convey how much she means the words she's saying. "I let him on that ship, and he had every last one of us fooled. Don't you dare go blaming yourself anymore than you already have." Lighter, she says, "You'll get wrinkles that way." And she's smiling sweetly again, full of love and pride.

Castiel can't look her in the eye as he tries to return the smile. It's a weak and broken thing, sad beyond measure. Resting his forehead on his clasped hands, he whispers, "It's happening again, you know. Crowley has him."

Meg reaches out to touch him, but her hand falters. He won't feel it, and it seems almost cruel to remind him of such a thing at a time like this. "What are you going to do?" she asks.

He shakes his head. "I don't know. I was kind of hoping you could point me in the right direction."

Meg frowns, terribly disappointed in her progeny. "Are you really a legendary pirate?" she taunts.

Castiel looks at her, taken aback. "What?"

"Are you or are you not Castiel, The Wrath of God?" she challenges again.

He looks away, weakly saying, "Not anymore."

"Bullshit!" she spits, startling him into looking at her with wide eyes. "People still whisper your name like you’re their damn savior. You are a legend, Clarence."

He frowns at her, his frustration mounting. "I'm so tired of getting all the credit. It wasn't just me!"

"So what? They're here, too, right? You've got your crew, right? So what the hell is stopping you? You know Crowley better than anyone; you know how he thinks! What more do you need?"

"Oh, I don't know," he retorts sarcastically. "How about a ship and an army?"

"You have a ship!"

"An old, civilian transport model won't work!" he argues.

"You have a ship," she says again, much more forcefully this time.

It stops Castiel in his tracks, and he thinks, realizing that yes, he does have a ship. There will likely be repairs, but even when he left her, he knew she wasn't done for there.

Meg smiles at him again. It's the kind of smile she used to give him, the one that would make him feel confident and bold and prone to doing incredibly stupid things that somehow had a way of working out. That smile has the same effect, even now. "Get the ship, and your army will follow," she promises. And then she's gone, flickering away into blue light.

He's alone in the room now, the woman that was up in the front having left at some point during his own communion. He stares at the blue lights that are slowly floating away from where Meg just sat, and then down at his hands. There's a melancholia settled deep in his chest, but more than that, there's a determination burning in him that he hasn't felt in over a decade. He says one more prayer to Saint Marie, and then he's standing and leaving the Room of Souls behind. The hymns hit him like a blast after the complete silence, but it only serves to drive him on.

When he reaches the main antechamber, the crew is scattered among the pews, in various states of rest.

Michael is the first one to notice him, asking, "What did she say?"

"We're going to Venus," Castiel announces. It takes the realization of what he's saying a moment to flicker across the faces of his crew, but once it does, they're all grinning broadly, ready for the challenge.

Charlie stands and addresses him seriously, "This is necessary?"

Castiel nods. "I'm asking you to trust me one last time. After this, we'll reach out and amass the forces we need to dethrone the king."

"You really think anyone will follow us?" Ash asks pragmatically.

Castiel smirks confidently. "So maybe I'm asking you to trust me two more times."

Charlie stares at him, mulling it over. She glances back to her crew members, sharing a sort of silent conversation with them. When she looks back to Cas, she nods hesitantly. "We'll take you there."


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He stares down the main entrance to the ship. All he has left is a hope and a prayer.

No one goes to Venus, otherwise known as the inferno planet ever since the sun expanded and swallowed up Mercury. It is completely uninhabitable and barely approachable, making what they are about to do very, very dangerous.

"You can't seriously be planning to go down there!" Jo argues.

"The shuttle can withstand the heat," Castiel says calmly.

"But only for about thirty minutes," Ash says, grim-faced.

"That's all I need," Cas says, continuing to suit up.

"You'll die down there!" Jo tries again.

Castiel doesn't stop his movements as he says, "Then I die."

"How can you say that!?" Jo cries out.

This time, Castiel does stop and turns to smile reassuringly at her. "It'll be okay, Jo. I will come back. I have things I have to do, after all."

Jo stares at him silently, hardly placated, but with no more arguments on hand to make. Castiel returns to suiting up.

Anna walks into the cockpit, tablet in her hands as she looks through the diagnostics test she performed on the break-away. "You'll have exactly thirty-three minutes and twenty-seven seconds before the life-support of the shuttle gives out. Theoretically, your suit should allow you another thirty minutes after that, but..." She glances thoughtfully up Castiel, pursing her lips.

"But with the heat, I'll get less," he intuits.

She nods. "You'll be lucky to get ten."

Castiel nods, zipping up the final bit of the suit. "I'll hurry."

Anna goes back to tapping on her tablet. "You have your coordinates memorized?" she asks.

"I do," Cas assures her.

"Good, because once you're down there, we have no guarantee communication systems will hold up. It's honestly very likely that you will be completely alone down there."

"Should I expect navigation to go out, as well?" he asks.

"Ninety-eight point three percent chance you'll be flying blind, yes," Anna responds, completely business-like.

Castiel smirks. "I like those odds."

Anna huffs out a soft laugh. "I figured you would."

Castiel heads to the door, stopping briefly to say, "Once I descend, if I'm not back in an hour, you'll need to figure out another plan."

Anna nods.

"And Anna," he continues, "I'll need you to be ready as soon as I get back."

"Of course," she says.

With that, he walks out the door.

"What's even down there?" Charlie asks.

Anna sighs, looking concerned and weary for the first time. "It's not worth saying if he can't get it."

* * *

 

The heat is worse than Castiel could have ever imagined, quickly draining him and the shuttle of energy. He finds himself for the first time ever having doubt in Anna's calculations in how long the shuttle will last. The only thing that continues to give him faith is that she's never been wrong as long as he's known her. Still, he keeps a wary eye on the power reserves.

She'd been right about the comm and the nav systems. Communication had shorted out as soon as he'd hit the atmosphere, while navigation had lasted him until he'd hit the planet. All he has to guide him is a vivid memory of where he'd left her and a sparse, burning landscape to navigate by.

He's down to his last five minutes of shuttle power when he finally comes upon her - the giant ship he abandoned to the inferno ten years ago. She seems mostly intact, a true testament to the military grade materials she is made from. She's angled all wrong from him to dock the shuttle though. He slams a hand against the controls, cursing loudly.

He flies around her perimeter, looking desperately for a way in which to enter. The alarm system of the shuttle begins going off when he has one minute left, and he clenches his jaw. He stares down the main entrance to the ship. All he has left is a hope and a prayer.

As he lands the dying shuttle, he checks the life-support on his suit. As soon as the shuttle powers off, it immediately starts dropping at a concerning rate. He makes a break for it, quickly exiting the shuttle and running for the ship. The heat assaults him immediately, and even through the suit, it's enough to make him sweat and have his skin bubbling. He grits against the pain and the black closing in at his eyes, focusing intently on making it to his destination. With the door in reach, all he can do is pray it opens. He has no life-support left.

* * *

 

Forty-five minutes after Castiel descended onto Venus, everyone aboard the Impala is starting to get antsy.

"Do you think he's-" Charlie starts, and Hannah quickly shakes her head no. Still, from the way she's clutching Charlie's hand so tightly, Charlie can tell Hannah isn't quite sure if she believes it herself.

They all sit in heavy silence as the minutes tick on by. Hence, everyone about jumps out of their skin when the comm system of the ships crackles on, first emitting nothing but loud static. Everyone stares at the helm of the ship, but nobody dares move, not until they hear Castiel's voice breaking through noise, saying, "Anna, I'm pulling up beside you guys in five minutes. I need you ready to be over here as soon as possible."

Anna immediately jumps up, prepping for the hop. Everyone else stares, mystified, through the viewscreen as a giant, golden ship emerges from the glowing atmosphere of Venus. It's definitely got some wear and tear to it, but considering where it has spent the last ten years, it might as well be brand new. Cannons are mounted in three different places on the ship, two smaller ones on either side of it and an incredibly large one on the top.

"Is that...?" Charlie trails off, unable to finish her sentence, completely awe-stricken. Hannah nods.

"But where are...?" Charlie starts to ask again.

"Give him a minute," Michael instructs, wearing a proud grin.

Sure enough, several seconds later, light starts to flicker near the boosters, bright flashes of the rainbow sparking on and off, until, finally, the great photon wings that are the namesake of the ship spawn, every color of the rainbow.

"It's really the Winged Ravager," Charlie whispers reverently.

"Yep," Anna says. "Fastest ship in the system, and I have to go perform maintenance on her."

Still dumbstruck, Charlie continues, "No one knew where she went."

"Castiel hid her, so that no one else could ever take advantage of her," Hannah explains.

"She's really an Imperial prototype, ain't she?" Ash asks, completely astounded.

"And sweet, farm boy Castiel stole her out from under their noses," Michael says with a laugh.

Castiel's voice crackles over the comm again. "Charlie, I want you to put out a message. The Winged Ravager has returned, and she's looking for backup."


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A message goes out to every unaffiliated ship registered at a port in the last year.
> 
> "The Winged Ravager has returned to the skies and she seeks an army to overthrow the king. Those of you that would join her, meet at the attached coordinates. Those of you who would not, disregard. And those who would oppose her? Beware where you step."

A message goes out to every unaffiliated ship registered at a port in the last year.

" _The Winged Ravager has returned to the skies and she seeks an army to overthrow the king. Those of you that would join her, meet at the attached coordinates. Those of you who would not, disregard. And those who would oppose her? Beware where you step._ "

* * *

 

"Well... it certainly is threatening..." Hannah comments hesitantly from her place at the Ravager's control panel.

"Leave it to that firecracker to come up with something like this," Anna says with a laugh.

"You two really are two peas in a pod," Michael says with a long-suffering sigh.

Castiel tries and fails to cover the snort that results from Anna's reproachful glare at her husband.

Anna sighs heavily and rakes a hand through her hair. "This makes us sound like we're issuing some sort of ancient duel."

"Aren't we though?" Michael asks. "In a way?"

"In a way," Anna relents, only mildly begrudging.

"We need to get our act together," Hannah announces from the helm. She glances at Castiel. "We've left everyone waiting on us."

Castiel nods. "Everything is primed and ready?" he ask Anna.

"As it'll ever be," Anna says.

"Then let's get suited up and meet everyone."

Anna rolls her eyes. "Can't believe you, of all people, want to make the big entrance."

Castiel smiles at her, almost shy. "People like a spectacle, right? Something they can find inspiration in?"

Anna claps her hand down on his shoulder. "I didn't say it wasn't a good plan. I just said I can't believe you came up with it."

* * *

 

"It looks like a lot of people responded to our message," Jo muses, eyeing the throngs of people packed into The Roadhouse. "I don't think I've ever seen it this busy."

"It was like this all the time back before you were born," Ellen says.

"No it wasn't," Bobby grumbles. "This place ain't ever been so busy. Don't go lying to your kid."

Ellen makes to whack him with a dish rag, but Bobby evades it with much more swiftness than one would think possible in a man of his age.

"Don't you sass me, Bobby Singer," Ellen scolds.

"I'll sass all I want to," he grumbles, adjusting his hat. "Got every right to."

Everyone in the immediate vicinity is left laughing.

"So where's Benny?" Charlie asks.

"Over there, talking to his old crew mates." Garth nods in the direction of a group of men and women that look more like they belong in long-term incarceration than in The Roadhouse, which is truly saying something, but, sure enough, Benny is in the middle of them, talking and laughing right along with them.

"No wonder everyone is so scared of him, if that's who he used to run with," Charlie muses.

"He was their captain, at that," Jo informs her, wearing a small, smug smirk.

"Well shit then," Charlie sighs out.

"Wait, so does this mean Benny's old crew is gonna help us out?" Ash asks suddenly.

"Pretty sure Benny plans to join 'em," Ellen says, "Dean's his friend, too, after all."

"Speakin' of this plan of yours, what is it?" Bobby asks.

Charlie answers, "We're not 100% sure yet. Cas said he'd fill us all in along with everyone else."

"And where're he and his lot?" Bobby asks in response.

"Said they had a couple more things they needed to do on the Ravager before they came here," Jo says boredly.

Ellen hm's thoughtfully.

It's thirty minutes later, everyone well settled in, acquainted, and having a good time, when the doors to the Roadhouse fly open. Castiel and his crew stride in; heads held high; iconic, brown dusters billowing behind them. It's a formidable sight, one for the history books, honestly, and it's enough to silence everyone in the normally rowdy bar.

They stride confidently to the front, faces set in stoic stone, and trade brief nods with the crew of the Impala before turning to face the crowd gathered. They look like a military procession, standing tall with their hands clasped behind their backs as they survey their surroundings.

Hannah steps to the forefront and addresses the men and women gathered. "We're here to amass an army to overthrow Crowley once and for all," she announces boldly. "If you are not up to the task or take some sort of issue with that, leave now. If you stay, we will assume you willingly take on the risks and responsibilities involved." There's dead silence in the room, thick and anxious. No one so much as moves, completely captivated by the authority radiating off of Castiel's second-in-command. Hannah continues, "Should there be any of you here that think you will act as double agents, rest assured that you will be found out and dealt with accordingly. I give you fair warning that you'd be much better off letting Crowley punish you for failing than you would letting us find you out."

Charlie wonders if they could possibly be bluffing, but then she happens to glance at Anna and Michael, both sporting the cold eyes of trained killers, and a chill runs down her spine. No, she thinks. This is personal. They may really not be bluffing.

"Are we understood?" Hannah asks. There's a general murmuring throughout those assembled assuring her that, yes, they are understood. "We will now give those of you who wish to leave a moment to do so." She steps back into line with the rest of her crew, all of whom are watching the room with hawk-like attention. They don't even acknowledge Charlie and the others standing behind them.

Amazingly, no one gets up to leave. If anything, they only start to look more and more determined.

Seeming satisfied by this, Hannah shares a look with Castiel, to which he nods, and she wordlessly hands off the position of speaker.

He steps to the front and looks over those gathered. Once. Twice. He nods to them as well, an almost regal gesture that conveys respect. "I do not think my crew and I can ever adequately express our gratitude and admiration for those of you that have shown up today and are willing to fight with us. I will not lie to you, our chances are grim. Crowley is a shrewd and powerful man, as I'm sure many of you know. There is far less dissension in his ranks than there ever was in Lucifer's, but I believe if we make this stand, we can succeed. People across the system will know that there are many who will not stand for Crowley's tyranny any longer, and they will see it as a rallying call."

There is a general murmur rising through the ranks, a readiness bordering on excitement.

Castiel smiles proudly. "Anna and Michael will now discuss with each of you individually about what specifically is expected of you." Castiel steps away, while Michael and Anna move forward, joining the nearest cluster. Conversations resume.

Hannah and Cas stand in front of the Impala's crew.

Ash whistles low. "So that's how legends do it, huh?"

Castiel looks down bashfully and shuffles his feet. "So it was good? Inspiring enough?"

"Oh yeah," Charlie praises. "Totally got the battle juices raging."

Jo snorts and says, "Oh please, it wasn't Cas that got you all worked up." She looks meaningfully at Hannah.

This time Charlie is the one to flounder about uncomfortably.

Jo addresses Hannah, "Who knew you could be so commanding."

Hannah smirks. "I get it from my mother."

"Remind me never to mess with her," Ash says.

"Trust me, if you ever met her, you wouldn't need reminding," Hannah jokes.

They all laugh at that, dispelling the nervous energy that's been brewing since they landed on Titan.

Slightly sobered, Castiel asks, "Are you guys ready to be our back up?"

Charlie nods. "We are."

"Then let's go to the back and talk strategy," he says.

The five of them start to filter into the backroom of the bar, but suddenly, Jo stops and turns to face Garth.

"When I get back..." She considers her words. "If I get back, we're doing this, okay? You and me. No more denying ourselves. I'm learning how important it is to appreciate the time we have. I don't want to waste any more of it."

Garth stares her for a moment, taken aback by the vehemence in her words, but then he smiles, wide and happy. Truly, really happy. "As you wish, Joanna Beth."

At that, Jo smiles. She turns and head to the backroom before he can see she's gotten misty eyed.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Within moments, the sky is lit up with a second sun, and then debris is flying everywhere.

"We've tracked you down, Cowley, and we're coming to finish this."

Crowley turns off the video message, unable to wipe the smirk from his face.

"Um, sir...?"

Crowley glances up at his underling, a small mouse of a man, and his smirk spreads further into a maniacal grin. "Things are about to get interesting."

* * *

 

Through the combined research and tracking efforts of Anna and Charlie, they were finally able to pinpoint the location of Crowley's personal satellite.

"Of course he has one," Jo had scoffed. They had all had to admit that it was fairly predictable.

Now, the vast space around it is filled with ships of all different make and model that are manned by crews of all different backgrounds. At the forefront, leading the way, are The Winged Ravager and The Impala.

Michael sits at the controls of the Ravager, piloting the ship, while Anna toils in the control room, and Hannah stands as the captain. No one seems to notice the small breakaway that zips off of the ship and towards the satellite.

"Message coming through, Hannah," Michael announces.

Hannah nods. "Patch it in."

Crowley's face appears on the view-screen, grinning smugly. "Well, well, well, you lot certainly seem to have pulled it all together."

"We've managed to hijack every open air wave, broadcasting what happens here to every screen in the system. There won't be a soul left who doesn't watch you fall here today," Hannah informs him stoically.

Crowley actually laughs. "Well, I am impressed, then. But then, with Anna on your side, it shouldn't come as a surprise." His smirk sharpens. "But did you stop to consider that they could all be watching you fail?"

Unphased, she responds, "Then they will see that there are people who will rise against you, and more will come in our place."

Crowley chuckles cruelly. "What a noble idea."

This time, it's Hannah who smirks smugly. "You know what this ship is capable of, Crowley. We won't lose."

He narrows his eyes at her, clearly bothered by what she said. "We'll see, Hannah. We'll see."

The communication terminates.

Hannah glances down at Michael. "He'll have noticed Castiel isn't here and figured out where he must be. Give the signal. We have to hurry."

Michael nods and begins punching in commands, sending messages out to the other ships in their battalion.

Hannah presses a button on the arm of the captain's seat. "Anna, can you hear me?"

"Loud and clear," Anna answers.

"Begin preparing the canon," Hannah instructs. "We'll need it at the ready."

* * *

 

Dean, Sam, and Ruby can only watch from their cells as men and women scurry back and forth, harried and barking at each other.

"What's going on?" Sam wonders aloud.

Dean clenches his fists. "It's Cas. Gotta be."

Ruby looks him over, calculating. "You really think Castiel has come here so soon?"

Dean nods, fire burning in his eyes. "Not a doubt in my mind."

Ruby watches him a moment longer before saying, "Then this is our chance."

"What do you mean?" Sam asks. "You think we can break out now?"

Ruby nods. "Everyone will be distracted enough to allow us time to figure something out. Besides, we don't have a choice. No one is getting down here to us. We have to get to them."

* * *

 

Finding Crowley's throne room isn't the hard part, Castiel thinks, adrenaline pumping through his veins and heart in his throat. Sneaking on board wasn't even the hard part. The hard part will be facing Crowley. The hard part will be finding out if Dean is dead or alive.

Crowley is sitting on his throne when Castiel walks in, looking entirely unsurprised to see him, guards on either side of him standing at attention. "When Hannah was the one spewing platitudes at me, I figured you must be coming here directly," he greets.

Castiel clutches his blaster tightly, trying desperately to channel his nerves down and out through the weapon itself.

"It's time we ended this Crowley."

Crowley sighs dramatically. "Oh, if you insist." He stands slowly, like a cat unfurling its limbs. "I must say, I hate it came to this, Castiel. We could have been so good together, you and I. We could have brought the galaxy to its knees."

Castiel's expression is tight as he says, "I never wanted that."

And Crowley look almost sadden as he responds, "I know."

* * *

 

Outside, the battle has begun, ships firing back and forth at each other.

Hannah tightens her fist, muttering, "Where are you, Castiel?"

"How much longer do we give him?" Michael asks.

"If we don't get the signal in thirty minutes, we go on with the plan."

Michael says, "Okay," but his hesitance is no less obvious than hers.

* * *

 

Ruby bangs her hand in frustration against the force field between the bars of her cell. "This is hopeless!"

Dean briefly raises an eyebrow at her before looking at his brother. "She's got some spunk, I'll give her that," he says. "You gonna date her when we get out of here?"

Sam stares at him, aghast. "Seriously, Dean? We're in a life or death situation and you ask me if the first thing I plan to do once we’re out is bang my jail cell neighbor?"

Dean shrugs. "You guys seemed kinda close. I figured Stockholm syndrome and all that."

Sam pulls a bitch face at his brother, and it's almost shameful how much Dean delights in seeing it after being apart from his brother for so long. "Stockholm syndrome has to do with the person that imprisoned you," Sam says pissily. "So unless you're suggesting I go date Crowley, it doesn't apply."

Dean makes a disgusted face. "Yeah, no, definitely not that."

"Would you two stop gossiping and fucking help me figure out how to get out of here?" Ruby shouts.

"Don't you, I don't know, have a bobby pin or something?" Dean asks.

Ruby stares at him, entirely unamused. "A bobby pin?"

"I don't know. Doesn't that shit usually work?"

Ruby's face lights up in over-exaggerated exuberance. "Oh! Right! Of course! How could I forget about the bobby pin I've kept on me for the last ten years!" she retorts sarcastically.

Dean makes a juvenile face at her. "No reason to be so snippy about it."

"Just help me!" Ruby shouts, patience wearing out.

Dean grumbles as he goes back to trying to find some sort of flaw in the force field, something they can exploit.

It's almost out of the blue when Ruby says coyly, "And you know, Samsquatch, I wouldn't be against it. Ten years is a hell of a dry spell, and looking at you these past few weeks definitely made me realize how much I missed it all." She punctuates the statement with a wink.

Sam sputters, face turning scarlet, while Dean just laughs hysterically.

* * *

 

"Where's Dean, Crowley?" Castiel asks, and somehow he manages to keep the fear out of the voice, manages to make it sound commanding.

Crowley smiles blithely at him, as though in a dream. "Is that a question you really want to ask, Castiel."

Cas swallows around the lump in his throat and answers, "Yes."

Crowley's smile turns cruel and mocking. "I couldn't bear to kill him in front of you and do that to you again."

Ice runs down Castiel's spine. "You're lying."

"Am I?" Crowley asks. "I didn't see you for ten years after killing the gutter snipe. Why would I be that stupid again? I know you, Castiel, though you seem to like to forget that fact." He frowns upon saying that, and continues seriously, "I knew you needed hope, Castiel. Something to drive you to see me again, back into my arms."

"You're insane," Castiel growls.

"And you didn't learn that when you followed me into that Kerberos den?" Crowley purrs. "Don't you remember how close we were, Castiel? How you followed me around everywhere we went? You were almost as bad as Juliet." His face darkens, cold hate flashing through every finite line and crease. "We were the best of friends until she came along," he spits.

"So this, all of this, is about jealousy?" Castiel asks incredulously.

Crowley returns to smiling pleasantly so quickly that it leaves Cas feeling dizzy. "Oh no, Castiel. This?" He gestures all around him. "This is about power. This is about moving beyond the means of a poor boy from Pluto and earning some respect." He eyes Cas up and down. "I'm sure you can appreciate that."

"I never wanted power," Castiel tries to argue.

"And yet you got it. A whole army of rogue pirates have followed you to their almost assured demise. How can you say that you and I are all that different?" Crowley smiles at him with some sort of sick pride, and it makes Castiel feel like bugs are crawling under his skin.

"I should have thanked Dean for one thing," Crowley says casually. "He brought you back to me."

Castiel slips his hand to the small device at his waist and presses the button.

* * *

 

"Anna, the signal has come through. Ready the canon," Hannah instructs.

"Yes, ma'am."

Michael looks up at Hannah warily. "We haven't seen any sign of him."

"I know, but he sent the signal. We have to go through with the plan." Hannah purses her lips into a terse line.

* * *

 

Within moments, the sky is lit up with a second sun, and then debris is flying everywhere. There is a gaping hole in the side of the satellite. All ships in the way of the blast have been obliterated.

* * *

 

The whole space station shudders and shakes. Castiel, Crowley, and Crowley's guards all stumble and fall to their knees.

"What in the bloody hell was that?" Crowley demands as he struggles to right himself.

Castiel has not moved from the floor, but he grins up at Crowley triumphantly. "Laser cannon, full size."

Crowley stares at him incredulously. "Not the one on the ship?"

"Anna finally got it working."

"That thing will destroy The Ravager just as much as it will anything else!"

Castiel is nonplussed as he says, "Necessary sacrifices must be made in the name of greatness." It’s an exact echo of Crowley’s words to him as Meg laid dying in front of him. He looks almost deranged as he adds on, "Guess maybe we aren't all that different, after all."

* * *

 

"The fuck was that!?" Dean shouts.

"Does it matter?" Ruby asks. "It shorted out the force field!"

"There's still the bars," Sam reminds her.

"Now that is a problem I can handle," Dean says before kicking the door out. The old metal locks scream as they give way under the impact. "Old bars like this? Mostly for show. People depend on those force fields too much. And their prisoners being a little more worse for wear, like you guys."

Ruby ignores the jibe and says, "Just hurry up and get us out of here."

With instructions for them to stay back, Dean manages to bust open their doors as well.

"Now how do we get out of here?" Dean asks.

Ruby answers, "I know the way," before darting ahead. They don't make it ten feet before a guard appears. He raises a blaster, but Ruby is faster, ducking under his arms and jabbing her fist up, lodging the bone of his nose into his brain. The guys falls down before he even knows what hit him. She picks up his gun.

Over her shoulder, she says, "We see anymore of them, you better take a blaster, too. We may need them."

Sam and Dean are left staring in awe.

"And she's really been in there ten years?" Dean asks.

"Far as I know," Sam answers.

"Would you two stop basking in how awesome I am and hurry the fuck up?" Ruby barks.

Dean grins and says, "She may actually be too cool for you, Sammy." He runs off after her.

* * *

 

Sparks are flying off the power source of the canon, singeing Anna's skin as she preps the cannon to fire again.

"How're you doing down there, Anna?" Hannah's voice rings out through the control room.

"Never better!" she calls back.

"How many more shots do you think she has?"

Anna clenches her jaw, sets it into a firm, grim line as she assesses the damage. Finally, she answers, "Two, at the most. But Hannah, the ship won't be able to handle it after that."

"That's fine," Hannah answers. "We all knew the risks involved. Just get her ready to fire again."

"Aye, aye, Captain!"

* * *

 

"Since when does any ship have that kind of firepower?" Jo demands.

"They don't," Ash whispers as they all stare at the damage in shock.

Charlie is the first to manage to snap herself out of it. "Jo, patch me through to them."

"Will do!"

In moments, Hannah's face appears.

"Hannah, what in the world is that?" Charlie asks.

"I'm sure you know that The Ravager was a military prototype. Well, that cannon is what makes it so dangerous."

"It's also why they were never mass-produced, isn't it?" Ash intuits.

Hannah's following silence is enough to answer the question.

"So what exactly is the plan?" Charlie demands. Again, Hannah is silent. "Damn it, Hannah! What the hell! You guys said we were your backup! Why would you keep this from us."

Hannah stares at her solemnly. "You never would have gone along with it. And you are our backup. Castiel and Dean need a place to run to."

"So you've heard from them?" Jo asks desperately.

Hannah shakes her head sadly.

"So what?" Charlie asks, furious and heartbroken all at once. "You're going to blow the place up with them in it!? And you guys will just go down with the ship!?"

"Castiel sent the signal without coming out, Charlie," Hannah states evenly. "Most likely, Dean is dead already."

"You're idiots! Every last one of you!" Charlie screams.

Hannah smiles sadly. "No, Charlie. We're simply doing what we must to clean up the mess we made."

They can hear Anna's voice in the background of the communication saying, "Hold tight, guys. Gearing up for shot two!"

* * *

 

With the second blast, half the space station is blown away. Explosions erupt off The Winged Ravager and it's great photon wings flicker out as one of the engines blows.

The fighting has stopped. Everyone waits.

* * *

 

Ruby, Dean, and Sam stumble through the halls, almost deafened by the emergency sirens blaring overhead.

"We've got to get out of here quick!" Ruby shouts. "We're running out of time!"

* * *

 

"So you're just going to die here, too?" Crowley snarls.

Castiel remains calm, despite the chaos around them. "What else have you left me with?" he asks.

"You're an idiot!" Crowley shouts.

In that moment, the doors swing open as three people stumble through. The first person Dean notices is Crowley, but just as he's about to curse Ruby for taking them through the wrong door, he notices Castiel, staring at him with wide, disbelieving eyes.

"Cas," he whispers, and though it's too quiet for Castiel to hear him over all the other noises of the dying satellite, it still seems to spur him into action.

Castiel makes to stand, to run to Dean, tell them they have to leave, now. At the same time, Crowley shouts, "NO!" He grabs a gun from one of his guards and goes to fire at Dean. His grip is unsteady though, his aim off.

Castiel crumples to the floor like a rag doll before he ever takes a step.

Dean shouts out his name and runs forward, suddenly unaware of anything except getting to Castiel. Ruby curses and quickly shoots the guards before they can get to Dean. They hit and kill on contact, but before she can shoot Crowley, he shoots again. His aim is still off, but it hits her shoulder, debilitating her arm and making her drop the blaster. It skitters across the floor.

Crowley advances on Dean and Castiel, until he's standing directly before them, blaster aimed at Dean's head. "I should have killed you," Crowley growls. "I'll rectify that mistake now." His finger presses against the trigger.

And then he falls, a smoking hole burned straight through his forehead.

Dean whips his head around, first looking to Ruby, only to find that she's staring in shock up at Sam. "Sammy?" he chokes out.

"That's for Jess," Sam says, deadly steel and hatred in his voice as he stares down at the now dead Crowley.

Ruby reaches out a tentative hand to his arm. When he doesn't flinch away, she slowly pries the blaster from his hands. "We have to go," she reminds him.

* * *

 

Fire rages around Anna, singeing her hair and clothes. She smiles to herself, gently coaxing the ship. "Come on, girl, one more. I know you can do it."

"Are you okay down there?" It's Michael this time instead of Hannah, his voice heavy with concern.

"A little hot," she answers, "but I'm here."

"Good."

"And you?"

"Charlie is trying to talk Hannah out of this."

Anna's smile widens. "Of course she is. That girl loves her." There's a pause before Anna says, "One more shot. That's all she has left in her." They're quiet again for a moment, and yet again, Anna breaks the silence, asking, "Do you ever regret it?"

"Not a bit," he answers.

Anna laughs. "You don't even know what I'm talking about!"

"Doesn't matter," Michael assures her. "If it has to do with you, I know I don't regret any of it.”

Anna's smile turns sad. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Michael's voice is choked when he asks, "Anyway you can program it in and come up here? Let me see you before the end."

Anna furrows her brow in concentration as she looks over the controls for the cannon. "Actually... Yeah, maybe..."

* * *

 

Jo and Ash can't bring themselves to do anything but sit in pained silence as they listen to Charlie crying and the alarms blaring through the communication.

"Hannah, please!" Charlie shouts, tears running down her face. But she doesn't have time to pay attention to them, not when she has a girlfriend to talk down from the ledge. "Just evacuate the ship and come over here! We'll figure out another way!"

Hannah shakes her head again. "We can't risk that he'll get away." Her own eyes are filled with tears as she says, "I'm sorry, Charlie."

"Hannah!" she screams.

They hear Michael's voice in the background shouting, "Hannah, come here! We need you!"

Hannah turns to look at Michael and then back at Charlie. "I'm so glad I met you. Thank you, for everything." The transmission shuts off.

"Call her back!" Charlie commands.

Jo keys in commands, but nothing happens. "I'm sorry."

"Don't tell me that! Just call her back!"

"I can't!" Jo shouts. More sedate, she says, "They've blocked the signal."

They can only watch in mute horror as moments later the laser fires one, final time, taking both the satellite and ship out in a brilliant blaze.


	19. Epilogue: It's in the Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Careful with that!" Dean barks at the men loading cargo onto the Impala. "If bees get loose in my ship, you guys are catching them!"

"Careful with that!" Dean barks at the men loading cargo onto the Impala. "If bees get loose in my ship, you guys are catching them!"

Sam laughs and shakes his head. "I can't believe you're going to have moon bees living on your ship."

Dean sighs the sigh of a man who has fought hard but lost the battle. "What can I do, man? Cas insisted."

"But you hate moon bees."

"But I love him. Besides, you try saying no to him. I think he's been around you too long. His puppy eyes are almost as bad as yours."

Sam laughs. "Man, don't blame me because you're whipped."

"Oh yeah?" Dean challenges. "And what about you? Ruby has you wrapped around her little finger."

Sam's only retaliation is, "Shut up."

"Well, well, if it isn't one of our newest carta kings," Ruby drawls, smirking at Dean as she comes up besides Sam to link arms with him.

Dean groans. "For the last time, we aren't taking over the carta."

Ruby frowns. "Someone will, you know. At least with you guys at the helm, you could keep it honest."

Sam raises an eyebrow at her. "Piracy is honest?"

"There's a certain honesty to it, yes," Ruby responds.

"Yeah, Sammy, we can't all be law men like you," Dean teases.

Sam frowns at him. "Jerk."

"Bitch."

"While you two are adorable and all," Hannah calls from the ship's ramp, "everything is packed up and we're ready to go."

"That's my cue," Dean says, and then he gives a big hug to Sam, patting him on the back. When he pulls back and turns to Ruby, the two stare at each other awkwardly, finally setting on shaking hands.

"You be careful," Sam says.

"Will do!" Dean replies with a mock salute. "Take care of my brother," he says to Ruby.

She smiles and says, "Of course. Someone has to, after all."

Then Dean is dashing up into the ship.

Crowley is dead, those that remained who were loyal to him scattered almost immediately. It had all been a very close call for all of them. Dean, Sam, and Ruby, along with an injured and unconscious Castiel, had barely made it to the hanger and into a ship in time. Castiel had required immediate medical care, more than any of the Impala's crew had been able to administer. Thankfully, Anna had indeed managed to remotely set off the cannon, and her, Michael, and Hannah had managed to make it to the Impala by means of an escape pod. Between the three of them, they managed to keep Castiel alive long enough to get him to a hospital.

It all seemed a little too fairy tale to Dean. Good things like this didn't happen to people like him, but staring into the faces of his new and improved crew standing before him, he was more than willing to accept it.

"So where to?" Jo asks from the controls.

"To the next big adventure!" Dean proclaims.

Charlie groans. "Seriously? Haven't we had enough adventure?"

"If you're adventuring, let me off," Ash says.

Michael snorts out a laugh, and Anna grins and says, "Amateurs."

"We can't all be as seasoned as you," Charlie quips.

Castiel raises eyebrow at her. "Hannah, I think your girlfriend is calling us old."

Dean wraps his arm around Castiel and presses a kiss to his temple. "We find the wrinkles endearing." Castiel glares at him, which just makes him laugh.

"Okay, children," Hannah says, though even she's smiling. "How about instead of an adventure we go on a simple heist. There's a woman on Titan with an amazing collection."

"I'm meeting your mother, aren't I?" Charlie groans.

Hannah just shrugs. "If she happens to catch you stealing one of her ceramic poodles, then I guess yes."

Everyone laughs, and between breaths, Dean says, "Okay, then, Jo! Set course to Titan and Hannah's mom's ceramic poodles!"

He realizes that Ruby is probably right, that someone will probably slither up and fill the void left by Crowley. The carta king throne never stays empty for long. But he also figures that's okay, because when it does happen? Well, the crew of The Impala will be there to stop them.

**Author's Note:**

> The whole process of this fic has seriously felt very Dickens: "It was the best of the time and it was the worst of time." Either way, I'm so glad I got to write and share this!
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](http://kanoitrace.tumblr.com)!


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